


Break

by katnissdoesnotfollowback (lost_on_cloud_9)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pool Table Sex, all about the smut really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-24 21:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_on_cloud_9/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss takes a risk on her last day at college, a game with higher stakes than she was expecting. Can she keep up with the game after she leaves behind her friends and one blond roommate with a talent for baking and making her feel hopeful?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sohypothetically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohypothetically/gifts).



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She’s not ready to say “good-bye” yet. Her boxes are all packed and loaded in Gale’s truck. There’s an apartment in Louisville with her name on the lease. Tomorrow, he’ll make the four hour drive behind her beat-up Honda and help her move in. Her friends surprised her with a Farewell Party two days ago that resulted in a god-awful hangover. Technically, she was an adult when she moved in here, but this massive, noisy house is where she grew up.

 

Outside, snow is starting to fall. The crappy heater keeps the house close to sweltering, no matter how low they set it. Multiple complaints to Madge’s father, who technically owns the place, got no results, and the residents just got used to it. Standard procedure in winter was to change to shorts and t-shirts as soon as you got home.

 

Tromping down the stairs, she smiles at memories of Guitar Hero sessions in the living room, Finnick leaping from the couch and twisting his ankle. The trip to the clinic that led to him meeting Annie. Nights spent with Gale, experimenting with alcohol and concocting new drinks and new ways to get their friends trashed. Study sessions with Peeta and Thresh, their books spread across the counter and a wipe board propped in the corner so they could organize their thoughts on their current projects. Johanna bursting into the hallway and flinging her coat open to reveal her naked body. The mortification on Madge’s face when she told Jo that her family had dropped by for a surprise visit, so please go put on some clothes.

 

Evenings spent curled on the couch watching movies and waking up with her head lolling on Peeta’s shoulder, his chest, sometimes his thigh.

 

The night Katniss and Jo came home early from a movie, arguing over whose idea it was to see the latest _Twilight_ when the movie they wanted to see had been sold out, only to learn, the hard way, that Delly and Thresh were now a couple. The months after that Johanna filled with jokes about getting the sofas disinfected and steam cleaned.

 

Katniss snorts and makes her way towards the back of the house, towards the rec room, the site of countless games of pool, darts, and beer pong. Also one fist fight and one very ill advised proposal that made Cato and Clove the first to leave the house after the most memorable wedding any of them had attended. It’s not every day the groom’s father throws knives at the father of the bride to win a bet.

 

Madge has already strung Christmas lights in here, and Katniss bends over to plug them in, giving the room a soft white glow. Leaning over the pool table, she runs her hands over the scratched wood, smiles as she recalls nights spent beating each of her roommates at this game. Everyone else is out today, either home for the holidays already or out catching a last shift at their job. Somehow, she managed to graduate early, a desperate attempt to save her mother some money and almost cost her summa cum laude instead. But she did it. Bachelors and Masters in five and a half years. Now, she’s leaving a semester earlier than the rest of her friends, and it feels all wrong.

The front door opens and closes. A pair of keys jangles as their owner drops them in the glass bowl. Then, loud footsteps make their way towards her and she smiles, her insides twisting at the now familiar sounds.

 

She knows his footsteps from the others.

 

“Never did manage to win this game against you,” Peeta says and she turns, leaning her hip against the table. He’s shoved his hands in his pockets, his gray peacoat unbuttoned and his scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. She gave him that green flannel scarf for Christmas one year, after he complained about the walk to class leaving his ears cold.

 

_“So wear a hat,” she teased._

 

_“Uh-uh. Have you seen what dry winter air does to curly hair? A hat only makes it worse.”_

 

_She bit her lip and shook her head, trying so hard not to laugh at his earnest expression. He mimicked his hair exploding, making the crackling noises to go with it and she couldn’t hold back the laughter._

 

_“Laugh all you want, Everdeen.”_

 

_The next day, he wore a sock hat just to prove his point and Katniss didn’t even bother trying not to laugh when he pulled the hat off, his blond curls instantly standing on end in a frizzy mess. She stopped laughing when he poked her, giving her a nasty electric shock. He grinned at the squealing noise she made then chased her around the house, zapping her each time he could reach her. So she bought him a scarf, showed him how to wrap it to keep his ears warm._

 

“It’s all in your aim,” she reminds him as she racks the balls. “One last game?”

 

“Sure,” he nods and slips out of his coat, draping it and his scarf over a nearby chair.

 

It took less than an hour after he’d moved in for her to declare he was her new best friend. He brought cinnamon rolls. Gale was highly offended that he could be ousted so easily. Until he tasted one and swore his everlasting fealty to Peeta. Finnick thought they were both nuts, but then ate one too, and asked Peeta to marry him. Over the next few months, Katniss learned all about Peeta, all the little details that seemed so trivial but added up to the person who could get her to laugh when she was her lowest, to find calm when she was angry, and to channel that anger into something useful. He was her rock, and of all their friends, she thought she might miss him the most.

 

It’s comforting, this last quiet game with Peeta. They move around the table easily, and her eyes keep flicking towards him, watching the way he moves and winces when he misses, groans when she sinks another ball. She wonders if he groans like that in bed.

The thought nearly makes her miss, but the shot is good, although sloppy, and she’s beat him within ten minutes. Peeta groans dramatically again and bends over the table, arms sprawled.

 

“I am the opposite of that trope with the guy teaching the hot girl how to play pool. Someone’s going to revoke my man card,” he jokes.

 

She laughs and uses the opportunity to appreciate the way his jeans fit snug over his ass, his toned forearms displayed so nicely by the pushed up sleeves of his shirt. She had her first dirty dream about Peeta within a year of them living together, but she’d shrugged it off as hormones. It was when the dream wouldn’t go away and then started intruding on her waking thoughts that she started to worry. Surely someone would notice the way she found herself staring at his eyelashes, his lips, his hair, his…well just him in general. Her cheeks would flame and she’d try to avoid him for a few hours, but that never lasted. She just couldn’t seem to stay away from him, although she tried to maintain a friendly distance.

 

And today is the last day she’ll get to spend with him. The thought of losing Peeta sends fear coursing through her veins. How did she come to lean on him so heavily? Her breathing escalates and she tries to distract herself with something. Anything.

 

He’s wearing jeans and long sleeves still. He didn’t change.

 

Fighting the grin threatening to overtake her face, she walks over to him, very casually, and hops up onto the edge of the table.  She’s terrible at keeping in touch with friends, hasn’t spoken to anyone from high school in years…so really, there’s no risk. Most likely, Peeta won’t even remember her in a few months. No reason not to claim one last memory of him before good-bye. She dives ahead.

 

“Maybe the problem is one of motivation. You need something to focus on. A goal.”

 

He lifts his head and props his chin on one hand, eyeing her speculatively. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“Well, it’s warm in here, as always, and you didn’t bother changing.” She toys with the end of her braid and his eyes follow the motion before returning to her face.

 

“I’m listening,” he says, his eyes growing dark. Or is that just her imagination?

 

“Strip pool. One piece of clothing per ball,” she can feel her face flushing at the bold words and thinks Peeta’s cheeks are turning pink, too, although it may be the heat in the house.

 

“Are you sure?” His voice is gruff, eyes intense, locked on hers. Chills run across her skin and a dull throbbing flares to life between her thighs.

 

Before she can second guess herself, she hops down, racks the balls again, and looks him straight in the eye. “I’m sure. I’ll even let you go first.”

 

“Do I have to call my shots?”

 

“Of course,” she wrinkles her nose at him. “Wouldn’t want to make it _too_ easy on you.”

 

“In numerical order, too?” His voice raises just a pinch and she wonders if he’s nervous about the idea of being naked in front of her.

 

“How about this…I have to go in numerical order, but you don’t. A sort of handicap.” Peeta nods at this then sweeps his gaze over her, a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Do you even have on seven articles of clothing?” For a moment, she’s thrown by the low, seductive tone he uses.

 

“No,” she answers, clearing her throat of some strange hoarseness that’s decided to take residence. “But you’ll be naked long before me anyways.”

 

Pushing himself off the table, Peeta looks at the clock, then nods. “Alright. Jo isn’t supposed to be home for another two hours.”

 

Two hours. Katniss tingles at the thought.

 

She slides the rack off and stows it while Peeta lines up his breaking shot. Positioning herself in his line of sight, she pops her hip to the side and watches as his forehead furrows in concentration. He’s mouthing words, and after a moment, she realizes that he’s repeating her pointers to himself. With a swift crack, his cue connects and the balls scatter. As the balls slow, the four comes to rest right on the edge for an agonizing moment before falling into the pocket.

 

“Ha!” Peeta crows and stands, watching Katniss expectantly.

 

“Don’t get used to it,” she warns, wishing for an ounce of Johanna’s confidence right now.

 

Closing her eyes, she whips her shirt over her head and flings it onto the chair with his coat.

Peeta stands there, drinking her in with his eyes and she shivers, not from the cold, but from the heated look in his eyes. She fights the urge to cover herself, to hide her plain beige bra from him. If she’d thought this through, she would have taken time to slip into her sole set of matching lace undies and bra. He swallows and tears his gaze away, focusing back on the table.

 

“Um, six. Corner,” he points to his target. The shot goes wide and he hangs his head dejectedly.

 

“As I said,” she scampers around the table, “Enjoy it while it lasts and prepare to get naked. Nine ball, center pocket.”

 

A crack and a thump and Peeta takes off one of his shoes.

 

“That’s cheating,” she scowls at him.

 

“You didn’t specify the order the clothes had to come off. And you didn’t give the winner choice of clothing item to be removed.”

 

“Hmmmm. Ten ball, corner pocket,” she leans over the table and sinks the ten. His sock follows and she glares. “Clearly I need to be more specific when wagering with you.”

 

Peeta laughs and steps aside to let her around the table for her next shot. She doesn’t miss the way his head dips as she passes, giving him a better view of the swell of her breasts. With a smile, she makes two more shots, forcing Peeta to remove his other shoe and sock. Ignoring Peeta as he hums the Jeopardy theme, Katniss takes a long moment to determine the best angle to sink the thirteen.

 

“Thirteen, corner pocket. Your mind games won’t work on me,” she says as the orange striped ball rolls across the table and thunks into the pocket. With a grin, she stands back to watch.

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me naked,” Peeta teases her, folding up the edge of his shirt to expose a strip of skin before dropping it back down.

 

“Deal’s a deal, Peeta. Lose the shirt.”

 

“Alright,” he chuckles as he reaches behind him to pull the shirt over his head. “I was going to lose the pants, but I can be nice.”

 

She gulps at the sight of his bare chest, the muscles rolling across his shoulders as he tosses the shirt to add it to the growing heap of clothes. She can’t look away from his abs and the trail of dark blond hair leading down into his jeans. He spreads his feet and stands erect, allowing her an unobstructed view of his arms and torso. She wants those arms surrounding her, holding him over her as he moves inside her…

 

The lusty thoughts break her trance and she returns to the pool table, taking calming breaths as the heat in the house becomes almost unbearable.

 

“Fourteen. Center pocket,” she croaks. Her vision skews left as he moves into her sight. The cue ball careens off to the side, knocking the eight instead and bouncing it off a wall.

 

Damn it.

 

Peeta grins and lines up his shot, his face screwing in concentration again. “Five, center pocket.”

His tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth, dark pink and wet. Would it be hot against her skin? Would he be a licker or a biter?

 

She almost misses his successful shot, she’s so distracted by thoughts of his tongue, but Peeta’s shout of triumph jolts her back to the game. He grins lasciviously and makes a motion with his hand, indicating that he’s waiting.

 

Katniss debates removing her shorts or her bra. She doesn’t have much left on, which she never considered a problem, certain she’d win easily and have Peeta naked in one turn. But now…

 

Leaning her cue stick against the table, she gives him what she hopes is a coy smile, toys with the button on her jean shorts and watches him as he watches her every motion. Then, she slowly slides her hands up and behind her, unclasping her bra. Peeta’s eyes go wide and his lips part. Katniss slips the straps down her arms and lets the garment fall, catching it in her hand before tossing it across the table at him. His hand automatically shoots out to snatch the bra from the air, but he just flings it over his shoulder, his eyes trained to her naked torso, gleaming with unfettered desire.

 

“Shit, Katniss,” he whispers and licks his lips.

 

His reaction makes her bolder. She has no idea how this will end, but she knows what she wants, even if she can’t yet find the courage to say it. All her life, she’s been more of a girl of action, anyways. So she perches on the edge of the table and leans over, giving him a full view in the soft glow of the lights.

 

“You’re shot, Peeta,” she aims for flirty or sexy, but isn’t sure she hit the mark until Peeta shuts his mouth and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Uh, right. My shot. Um where? Am I stripes or solids?”

 

She laughs and reminds him that he’s solids. He leans over and calls the two in the corner, but his eyes keep darting over to her as she leans low and lets her breasts sway enticingly over the table. He scratches this time and curses.

 

“Johanna would say that you clearly don’t know how to wield your cue stick,” Katniss teases.

 

He flings the stick on the table and stalks around to her. Placing his hands on either side of her hips, he steps between her spread knees.

 

“Sore loser?” she teases.

 

“I haven’t lost just yet, Katniss. What are you up to? Are you trying to seduce me?”

 

She crosses her arms defensively. “What if I am?”

 

Peeta drops his head to rest on her shoulder and laughs. It isn’t his normal laugh, though. It’s tortured and bitter. “You could have just ordered me into your bed and I would have jumped.”

 

“What?” she asks, leaning away from him.

 

“You have no idea, do you?” Peeta lifts his head and she searches his eyes. What did she miss? “You don’t. I was sure I’ve been too obvious. Everyone else we live with seems to know. Katniss, I’ve been in love with you for years. Probably since day one when you moaned over my cinnamon rolls like you were in the middle of an orgasm and then kicked the shit out of Cato for being a douche to Delly.”

 

She’s shaking her head in denial, so he goes on. “That night, we all went out to a bar and you sang karaoke. Some stupid Katy Perry song, but you made it sound incredible. And when you were done singing, I knew. I didn’t stand a chance.”

 

Frantically, Katniss searches her mind for a clue, something she overlooked. A smile, a glance, or a stray touch that lingered too long. Could she really have been that oblivious?

 

_Could we really have been that blind?_

 

His eyebrows rise and she realizes she spoke that last thought. Peeta licks his lips and watches her. “We?”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She scowls at him, thinking angrily of all the time they’ve wasted. All the time she’s wasted telling herself she didn’t care for him that way.

 

“You never seemed interested. At least not in anything other than platonic friendship. And now you’re leaving tomorrow. I told myself I wouldn’t say anything. I’d let you go without ruining what we did have and try to move forward. But then you,” he waves towards the pool table then at her bare torso. “And we…and now I don’t know if I can.”

 

She thinks about all those movie nights she’d fall asleep on him, those moments right after she woke when she’d feign sleep for a few moments longer just to savor the warmth surrounding them, the rumble of his voice if he happened to be talking. The even later nights she’d sneak downstairs for a snack and find him in the kitchen already, baking because he was stressed, although he’d never admit that’s why he did it. The muffled laughter over pound cake and cookies and herb toasted bread as they tried not to wake their roommates.

 

The nights she couldn’t fall asleep, restless and shifty, and found relief with her fingers and thoughts of blond curls under her palms, pink lips on her skin, blue eyes adoring her, and broad hands setting her on fire. The denials the morning after that she did not just masturbate while thinking about one of her friends and roommates. It could have been any blond-haired, blue eyed man in her fantasies.

 

But now, the same eyes that set her on edge and then over the edge in her dreams are examining her, vulnerable and very real.

 

Much in the way she decided to challenge him to this game, she makes another decision to end the game, slowly bringing her hands up to his cheeks. Running her palms over the skin as he watches her, his bare chest rising and falling rapidly. Her fingertips brush the curls at his temples. She spends a moment, toying with the silken strands before she buries her fingers in the soft mass. She lets her other hand trail down his neck to his arm, feeling the strength beneath the skin.

 

Once, he’d carried her to bed. She’d been too drunk to walk up the stairs safely, and she’d spent the short time with her nose nuzzled to his throat, savoring his spicy scent and the way his arms flexed beneath her.

 

She rubs her hand down to his wrists, her eyes following her own touch over his skin, back up the underside of his arms, down his ribs and around to his back.

 

“Katniss,” he whispers.

 

“Stop talking, Peeta,” she says before pressing her lips to his and tastes. Just a short kiss. A test. He goes rigid, eyes open, still locked on hers. She scoots to the edge of the table, wobbling precariously, and Peeta catches her, placing his hands on her hips to steady her. His fingers dig into her flesh as she kisses him again.

 

A little chapped, a little moist, hot, and gentle, his lips meld with hers, tugging on her bottom lip. She sucks on his top as warmth pools in her chest, spreads slowly down her limbs to her fingertips and toes, to the edges of her thoughts as her heart accelerates. Hesitantly, his tongue traces her lower lip and she opens for him. With a groan, Peeta plunges in, one hand traveling up her back to press between her shoulder blades, smashing her breasts to his chest. The heat of his skin singes her nipples and she sighs into his mouth, her fingers curling into scalp and back. His other hand moves to grip her hip, keeps her from slipping off the table.

 

He steps closer, aligning their hips while he discovers her mouth, the rough surface of his tongue stirring the warmth in her. She rotates her hips, pressing her heat to his, finding him already hard. The pressure against her clitoris drives her higher and hotter. Wrapping her tongue around his, she arches into the kiss. Peeta makes a strangled noise in his throat, his hand drifting up to the back of her neck before he pulls away. She gasps at the loss and tries to follow, but he rests his forehead against hers.

 

“Katniss…what…why…Fuck it,” he grunts before he kisses her again and she thrills at having made verbose Peeta Mellark basically speechless.

 

His whole body presses into hers, bending her back over the table. There’s a clatter and the sound of at least one ball falling into a pocket as he shoves the remaining balls out of the way before laying her down on the felt surface, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses over her chin, down her throat to her chest. She arches into the wet heat over her nipples as he suckles, darts of pleasure shooting down between her legs.

 

“I don’t think that was a legal shot,” she gasps.

 

“Don’t care. I forfeit,” he mumbles to her ribs.

 

His lips keep going, down over her stomach to her hips. He nuzzles and kisses her skin there, fingers toying with the waist of her shorts. She pulls her hand from his hair to reach down and unbutton then unzip the shorts, lifting her hips impatiently as he helps her pull the fabric down over her legs.

 

He licks his lips again and runs a hand over her underwear, down between her legs to press his thumb into her clit. She moans and arches her back.

 

“Peeta, hurry. Please.”

 

“Oh, Katniss. There’s no way I’m rushing this. Not with how long I’ve wanted to eat you out.”

 

She pushes up to rest on her arms and watches him, astonished by his words as he runs his fingers delicately over the crotch of her panties. It’s an erotic feeling, the heat of his fingers through the soft cotton. She wiggles her hips and whimpers, but he just _tsks_ at her, sliding his hands back up to her hips to peel away the last of her clothing. They slide down her legs at an achingly slow pace. Peeta can’t seem to decide where he wants to look, at her face or between her legs. Finally, the scrap of cotton is free of her legs and he drops them, biting his lip as she spreads her legs for him to see.

 

Then he kneels between her outstretched thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders so she can brace her feet on his back. He nuzzles his nose into her folds and she gasps at the soft contact. His tongue flicks out to taste the arousal already gathered over her folds and her hips jerk in reaction.

 

“Fuck me, you taste better than I could have imagined.”

 

She whimpers and wiggles her hips again, eager to have his mouth on her fully, hoping this lives up to her fantasies, too. He looks up, locking eyes with her.

 

With a long swipe of his tongue, he settles in to tasting her in earnest. It starts as a tingling and grows in intensity as he licks over her then inside, in a swirling pattern then up to her clitoris where he flicks gently. Her body bows as the heat in her blood boils over, rages into an inferno. She thinks his fingers join the play, but she’s lost in the glow of white lights along the ceiling, the softness of his curls against her thighs, and the scrape of his tongue right where she needs it.

Katniss is panting, soaring on billowing smoke while Peeta moans into her, laps at her, and sucks on her most delicate parts. Her arms give out and she arches her back, reaches down with both hands to grab fistfuls of hair, her nails dig into his scalp as she holds him in place, certain that her grip on him is the only thing keeping her from flying right off the table.

 

It washes over her in rolling waves of bright blue flames. Her toes curl against him, her head thrashing as a rush of moisture escapes her. She spasms against his mouth, his name torn from her throat in a hoarse scream. He moans again, licking at her release, holding her hips up away from the table.

 

She hangs suspended for a moment, brought slowly back down as he stands and wipes her juices from his mouth, holding her in place with his other hand. Her legs fall off his shoulders and thud against the table, but she doesn’t feel it.

 

Peeta bends over her, pressing soft kisses to her skin, now slick with sweat as he reverses his path from her hips back up to her chin. Her sensitive skin twitches beneath his attention. Finally, his lips find hers again and they kiss languidly. She can taste herself on his tongue, a musky, heady taste. She smiles against his lips, already thinking about tasting him. When his hand gently probes through her folds, she bucks into the touch, sheathing his fingers in her heat. The rough denim of his jeans against her thighs reminds her that he’s still partially dressed.

With great effort, she pushes them upright, her hands yanking on his belt buckle, his fingers still teasing inside of her.

 

“Upstairs, Peeta. Now.”

 

He shakes his head and slides his fingers from her, making her growl with frustration. But he just reaches behind him and retrieves his wallet, pulling out a foil packet that she snatches from his hands and tears into while he holds her steady with both hands, nibbling softly at her neck.

Trying to multi-task, she uses her feet to shove his jeans and boxers down around his ankles. She’s already soaked again from his ministrations. Finally, she has the thing open and rolls it on, making Peeta flinch and hiss.

 

“Too rough?”

 

“No,” he rasps. “I just really like your hands on me.”

 

Katniss smiles giddily and slides off the table, her hip brushing him as she turns her back to him and bends low over the table, arms splayed, the rough felt stimulating her nipples as his hands run over her backside. His fingers trace lower, gathering her arousal, spreading it around while the other grips her hip. Then he takes himself in hand and nudges the tip inside, rotating it as she writhes a little, trying to get him to go faster.

 

He pauses, and she looks back at him. “Katniss, say you want this. You want me.”

 

She bites her lip, nodding at him, but it isn’t enough. He pleads with her once more to say it.

 

“I want you, Peeta. I…I need you.” Her words end on a moan as he slides slowly inside her, just a little, then back out. And in. She rises on her toes, urges him deeper and his moans join hers. When he’s fully sheathed, he rolls his hips, throws his head back.

 

“Fuck, Katniss. I may not last long.”

 

She throws her arms in front of her, bracing her hands on the flat surface and grinding against him. “It’s okay, Peeta. We still have over an hour.”

 

He looks down at her and smiles, then snaps his hips against hers, making her gasp in delight.

“Maybe I can’t beat you at pool. But I can make you come at least twice more before the others get home.”

 

Peeta trails his fingers up her spine, the touch almost tickling and completely delicious beside the rough snaps of his hips. She clenches her legs and uses her arms to push against him. He bends over to chase his fingers with his lips and her back bows, pushing her hips up into him and her breasts down on the table.  When he hits a spot deep inside, she calls out his name.

Her hips slip and Peeta grips her tighter, careful to hold her hips away from the table so he isn’t ramming her into the hard surface. But she’s almost there again, tells him so. Gradually, he picks up the tempo. A shift of his feet and hips lays his chest against her back, the heat of his skin scorches her. His thrusting transitions to a shallow rocking motion. One arm snakes around her torso, hand curled around her ribs and holding them close together while the other wraps around her hips. His fingers search frantically before finding her clit once more and then rub furious circles. The new angle touches some deep part of her, causing shockwaves through her abdomen.

 

“Oh god, Peeta,” she moans, letting her head fall back.

 

His lips brush gently against her neck and shoulders as he whispers confessions to her. About how he’d dream of doing this with her. About how incredible she’d feel around his cock and how dreams fell far short of reality. How he’d touch himself to thoughts of her and hoped she did the same with thoughts of him. And how he wants to fuck her until she can’t breathe or move or do anything but beg for more.

 

The words and the pressure of him inside her push her higher. She grasps for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing in her reach, so she flexes her fingers against the felt and rides the storm. As his thrusts grow erratic and his voice ragged, she pushes harder, faster.

 

“Katniss, I can’t—“

 

“Let go, Peeta.”

 

He groans and bites her shoulder, presses more firmly against her clit. He rears back and thrusts deep. Hips snapping, fingers clenching, skin slapped upon skin. She feels him pulsing inside of her and she follows, her vision tunneling, thighs trembling.

 

Her body quakes beneath him, tremors wrack her legs as she squeezes her walls around him then loses control and they clench on their own. Katniss’s mouth opens in a silent scream that releases in a final stuttering curse and his name before she goes limp on the table and lets the pleasure roll through her. He rides out his orgasm with a few last erratic thrusts before he collapses heavily against her back.

 

They lay there, listening to the other draw gasping breaths. His hands skim over her slick skin, lips caress her back. Her legs are jelly; his weight keeping her from sliding to the floor. Her only regret is that she couldn’t see his face.

 

Sweat trails over his arms, pools between them and she shifts restlessly beneath him. Peeta kisses her back then tightens his arms around her and pulls them upright. With careful motions, he turns her then bends to cup his hands behind her knees, sweeping her up and linking her legs around his waist. She clings to him as he sways and then takes a few steps towards the door. He has to pause a moment, one hand braced on the wall, but when he pushes away, he breaks into a run, racing up the stairs as Katniss laughs.

 

Taking them into the bathroom he shares with Finnick and Johanna, he sets her on the counter then starts the shower. Coming back to her, Peeta cups her chin in his hands and examines her flushed, sweaty face.

 

“You’re unbelievably beautiful, Katniss.” He fuses their lips again and relief flows through her. She’s not sure what she expected. A callous redressing and a “Thanks for the fuck. Have a good life”?

 

Not likely.

 

He ends the kiss and he pecks her nose. “Be right back.”

 

He’s only gone a few minutes, and the water has warmed, so she undoes her braid and steps under the spray, sighing at the soothing feel of it against her skin and her now aching muscles. Thoughts intrude. What now?

 

She’s leaving _tomorrow_.

 

She’s _leaving_ tomorrow.

 

It may have been better if they’d just had a casual fuck instead of…what exactly was that if not a casual fuck? She thinks of the words he poured in her ears and against her skin and how his touches felt both soothing and sensual. Had she planned on having sex with him? She did suggest strip pool. What had she hoped to gain? A memory of him naked for future lonely nights? Well she got that and more and now she’s got no idea what to do with it.

 

Desperate for a distraction, Katniss picks up a bottle of soap, flips the lid, and sniffs. Not Peeta. She looks around the shower a moment before finding another bottle and sniffs that one. Peeta.

She lathers herself with his soap, thinking maybe she can scrub away some of these feelings. This is just like her to go and complicate things.

 

“Katniss?”

 

She peeks around the curtain and tries to smile brightly at Peeta. He’s carrying their clothes from downstairs in a bundle. His body still glistens with sweat. His skin pink, cheeks rosy and eyes bright in a post-orgasm glaze. His curls are a mess, and she can see the evidence spread across his groin, although he’s already discarded the condom. And he thinks _she’s_ beautiful?

She needs to speak. He said her name like a question. Speak, Katniss.

 

“Hey.”

 

Really? Is that all she can manage to say to the guy who just fucked her brains out on the pool table?

 

“I asked if you wanted me to get you clean clothes from your room. I don’t want to mess up your packing.”

 

Her packing. What has she done? She can see it in Peeta’s eyes, too, the dawning realization that things just got horribly messy. She takes a deep breath and shoots for damage control.

 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. Come join me?”

 

It’s his turn for relief as he piles the clothes on the counter and climbs in with her. He steps behind her, allowing her to remain in the stream of water, and shampoos her hair. She leans back into the touch as he massages her scalp. She ducks and turns, Peeta laughing as he twists his hands to keep massaging her scalp. Reaching behind him, she grabs the shampoo and pours a glob into her palm. With a wink, she smears it over his hair and mirrors the motions of his fingers. He inhales through his teeth and closes his eyes a second. When he looks back at her, the naked desire is back.

 

Fingers still soapy and tangled in each other’s hair, they move together. Their wet skin makes a squelching noise and Katniss laughs into Peeta’s mouth. It’s a slow kiss, all swollen lips and secret smiles, suds running down their wrists as they keep their hands firmly in each other’s hair. The water has started to cool when they pull apart. Without a word, she tips her head back into the stream and Peeta helps her rinse her hair. They switch places and she peppers kisses over his chest and shoulders while he rinses. Then she helps him wash his body.

 

Her stomach flutters when he towels her dry and hands her the stack of her clothes. She pokes her head out the door and listens to the house. It’s still silent, so she grabs his free hand and pulls him down the hallway to her room where she grabs a clean pair of underwear before tugging him back out into the hallway and to his room.

 

The door slams behind him, and Katniss flings her clothes and the towel off to the side. With a grin, she pulls off his towel too and pushes him down onto the bed. Might as well, she decides. Since she’s not leaving until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a Christmas present for the amazing sohypothetically on tumblr, whose smuttivation is my smutspiration. One thing led to another and it turned into a multi-chapter story. Hope you enjoy, and like the tag says...this is basically all about the smut. ;-) 
> 
> The good news is that since I've been posting this story to tumblr for the past few months, it's basically almost done. All I have left is the seventh chapter, which is basically just an epilogue and an excuse to write more smut. Point is, I won't be keeping you waiting for once!
> 
> Thank you a million times over to loving-mellark, the artist behind the awesome banner artwork.


	2. Air Ball

The chill air dances through the open window and kisses the tip of her nose and ears. Peeta’s exhales caress over her neck, heating her and sending a shiver through her. He grabs the blanket, discarded at the foot of the bed earlier that afternoon and pulls it up to cover them, wrapping her in his radiated heat. She squirms to get closer, not ready to move from her spot, although it was the noise of their roommates moving around downstairs that woke her.

 

“Peeta?” she says softly, her eyes shut against the world outside his door. It’s getting late. When she woke several minutes ago, with Peeta’s arm curled loosely around her, the sky outside had begun to darken.

 

“Yeah?” he whispers, his lips brushing the nape of her neck, turning the word into a velvet kiss. His fingers skim over her skin, caressing her hip and thigh, down to her knee then back up again to toy with the waistline of her panties, then the hem of his t-shirt that she borrowed as they crawled into his bed, sated but exhausted after Peeta kept his promise to make her come at least twice more -- including the two on the pool table, she’s orgasmed at least five times this afternoon. But who's counting, really?

 

“What happens tomorrow?” she asks and Peeta’s hand stops moving on her. 

 

“What do you want to happen tomorrow?” he asks instead of answering. Tears prick her eyes and she remains with her back to him. Gale’s laughter echoes up from downstairs, reminding Katniss of all of her things packed in his truck, ready to go.

 

“I don’t know,” she says. Peeta’s body tenses against hers.

 

“We could spend the rest of the night like this. And in the morning, when you go to Louisville, I guess what happens next depends on what this was for you,” he says, an unfamiliar tone laced through his voice.

 

“What do you mean?” she asks, mainly to distract from the fact that she doesn’t know what this was other than incredible. Easily the best sex she’s ever had, but it felt like more than that, and more than that makes her pulse trip in an erratic and painful beat.

 

“I mean,” he says shifting his body and forcing her onto her back, hovering over her so she has no choice but to look up at him. “I told you that I’m in love with you, and it’s okay that you didn’t say it back, but I thought you…”

 

Katniss bites her lip and looks away as he trails off, looks towards the window and watches the snow falling outside. Already, she feels him slipping away as she lets the silence and the distance stretch between them, leaving his suggestion unanswered. She’s not sure she can give him any kind of promise.

 

“Katniss?” he whispers her name in a tone so hollow she can’t bear it. Not after all their late nights in the kitchen sharing bread and the most vulnerable bits of their souls. He didn’t even sound this hurt when he told her about the way his mother treats him. “Was this just a way for you to pass the time? Were you just gonna walk out tomorrow and never look back?”

 

“I don’t wanna lose you,” she says instead of answering that question. “You’re one of my best friends, Peeta.”

 

Peeta expels a powerful breath and then his fingers caress over her cheek, gently turn her head so she’s looking at him again. She wants to hide from his questioning gaze, but she knows she owes him some kind of answer after what they did today.

“My parents are still in Louisville,” Peeta says softly, pleadingly. “It’d be easy for me to come see you over weekends and…” He trails off once more when no enthusiasm or answer changes her expression. She schools her face into neutral, convinced this is the best route. Suddenly, Peeta’s entire demeanor changes, a smile turning up the corners of his lips as he dives beneath the covers and tugs up the shirt she’s wearing.

 

“Peeta,” she says in confusion, unbalanced by his sudden shift. As he rustles around under the blankets, she finds the words she needs. “We don’t even know where you’ll be after graduation in May.”

 

“I can make an excellent argument for this not being the last time we see each other,” Peeta says, voice muffled under layers of cotton, but his fingers are hot on her bare skin as they dig in and she squirms.

 

“Stop, oh my god, Peeta!” she giggles under the attack of tickles.

 

“Point the first,” he says as her hands try without success to stop him, only succeeding in further tangling the sheets around them. “I promise to always bring baked goods or to bake them fresh for you when I come to visit.”

 

“I’m gonna pee, stop it!” she laughs. But...cheese buns on weekends sounds very tempting. She won’t even attempt to fool either of them about how much she will miss that part of living in the same house with him.

 

His fingers mercifully cease, but his lips take their place, and as her laughs fade, they morph into quiet sighs of delight.

 

“Point the second,” Peeta continues. “You know from experience that I give excellent massages, free of charge. You will never have to pay for a masseuse.”

 

“Oh,” she moans as he dips one finger below the waist of her panties and swipes his knuckle slowly from one hipbone to the next. Her chest is already heaving, eyes slid shut to enhance the intensity of his touch. “Stop trying to bribe me.”

 

“Just making a case here,” he murmurs and then his tongue follows his finger and she grips his hair, her hips lifting off the mattress in their quest to bring him closer to where she wants him. Then he resumes talking, his fingers continuing their slow torture as his words breeze over her belly and only add to her deepening arousal.

 

“Point the third, I won’t make demands on you. If you want us to stay friends while I’m here and you’re there, but let me fuck you until your legs are numb when I do come to visit, I can deal with that. If you want to end things at any point in the future, I won’t be the kicked puppy. If you want to end this right now, I’ll walk out the door, distract the others while you deal with that incredibly arousing case of sex hair you’re sporting, and let you go tomorrow without a fight.”

 

Through her moans, she laughs at his prideful description of her hair, knowing he’s the reason for her tangled tresses, and then feels the sting of tears as she realizes, she doesn’t want him to let her go either.

 

“But before you decide,” he whispers as he finally peels her panties down her legs. She releases his hair to leverage her hips up to help. “Consider this...”

 

His hand shoots out from beneath the sheet and twirls her panties on his finger for a moment before dropping them to the floor. She sniggers at his antics, eagerly awaiting his next words and moves. His hand disappears once more. He grips her thighs and spreads them as he settles between them. Katniss clings to the sheets and arches automatically towards the lump under the sheets that is his head. A soft squeal escapes her lips as his tongue experimentally licks her folds.

 

“Point the fourth,” he breaths onto her already wet lips and she wriggles beneath him, desperate to have his mouth on her again. “I will make love to you like this every chance you give me. Fuck, Katniss, I’ll never get tired of making you come.”

 

Then his mouth latches onto her and her lips part in a shout that she hastily stifles by stuffing the sheet into her mouth and biting down. Her hips buck into him, and he lets her, moving with her instead of trying to contain her. He alternates sensuous licks with frantic sucks until she’s risen to a fever pitch. 

 

Someone walks by Peeta’s door as he slips his fingers inside her to massage the extremely sensitive spongy spot, sucks on her clit. She whines into the balled up cotton filling her mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet, but finding it harder as he drives her close to her peak then backs off as one of their roommates knocks on her door down the hall.

 

“Catnip?” Gale calls out loudly as her thighs tense and her feet push her up into Peeta’s mouth, his tongue dipping inside her alongside his fingers and swirling over her walls then curling up to rub the sensitive spot right at the upper crease of her labia. She feels herself teeter on the edge as he concentrates there.

 

“Unf, Peeta,” she whispers desperately, the words garbled around the sheet, but she needs to come so badly and she’s terrified someone will hear her. She’s not sure if she’s asking him to finish her fast or stop until Gale leaves. He reaches one hand up to cover her mouth, stuffing the sheets further in and effectively silencing her. Peeta pulls his fingers free and uses his other hand to angle her hips down so she’s completely arched on his bed. His teeth scrape her clit as he returns his full attention to it.

 

“Guess she’s out somewhere or asleep or something,” Gale says right in front of Peeta’s door.

 

“Her keys are in the bowl,” Johanna points out. “So are Peeta’s.”

 

Oh god, she thinks as Peeta continues his assault on her clit and her sanity. They’re going to figure it out. Somehow, though, the illicit nature of this, of Peeta’s hand and sheets muffling what would otherwise be her screams while their closest friends stand on the other side of the door, sends a wave of lustful heat through her.

 

“Huh,” Gale says and then pounds on Peeta’s door just as Peeta’s tongue starts flicking her throbbing clit at a maddening pace.

 

Her feet curl painfully as she braces herself, prepares for the storm to break, heedless of the wild motions of her hips as Peeta’s fingers dig into the taut flesh of her flexed ass, his short nails pinpricks of pain that only serve to send her careening faster over the edge.

 

“Yo Peeta!” Gale yells through the wood as Katniss thrashes on the bed, lost to the world, and Peeta’s tongue laps at her in time with each pulse of her clit. She moans deep in her throat, unable to contain the wanton noise. Then she goes limp on the bed, yanking his hand and sheet from her mouth so she can gulp in lungfuls of air.

 

“You alright in there, dude?” Gale asks.

 

Peeta lifts himself up so he’s hovering over Katniss, his lips and chin glistening with her. He grins, his eyes sparking in wild need as he grasps himself and nudges her folds apart with the tip of his cock. 

 

“I’m fine,” Peeta calls out, his voice convincingly hoarse. “Just taking a nap.”

 

Katniss hisses and wraps her legs around him as he slowly begins to enter her and Gale makes some comment on the other side of the door that neither of them responds to, breathlessly anticipating and then sighing as two sets of footfalls retreat from Peeta’s door. She squeezes her eyes shut when he’s only partway in and claws at his biceps, then at his hips. Fucking hell, he’s so hard, she can feel his veins throbbing with every beat of his heart. Or maybe it’s her still quivering lips. Either way, she needs him to stretch her, fill her, pound into her and quench the need raging through her limbs.

 

Peeta freezes. Katniss mewls in protest.

 

“Condom,” he says in a panic and pulls back out to hastily search for one. His dick brushes against her hip as he rummages through his nightstand, leaving traces of her arousal on her skin. Her legs shift restlessly, rubbing her thighs on his hips and waist, her heels on the back of his legs. Hands fumbling, softly cursing, Peeta tosses things out to aid his search as she takes the chance to bite his shoulders and chest, suck on the skin until it’s red and marked with her saliva.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers, a desperate edge to his voice. “We used the last one earlier. Do you have any in your room?”

 

Her legs tighten on him as her body responds to the memory of riding him, keening his name and incoherent bits of dirty talk to spur on his upward thrusts as she bounced over his cock until she fucking squirted her release all over him. She’d never done that before. It left her dazed. Disoriented and yet flying on wave after wave of euphoria.

 

“I’m on the pill,” she says frantically, tugging on his shoulders to bring him back to her. Peeta hesitates, staring at her with his mouth hanging open. 

 

“Katniss, I --”

 

“Fuck, Peeta, we both know neither one of us has been with anyone else in at least six months. I’m clean. I trust you. And I need you. Now.”

 

“Shit,” he mutters, but shifts his body to enter her once more. They both groan softly in relief as her walls flutter slightly as they stretch for him.

 

Peeta leans over as his hips rotate and roll against hers; she seizes his lips and kisses herself off of them. The mattress dips with their movements, cradling her in it’s softly welcoming cushion, punctuating each of Peeta’s shallow, forceful thrusts with a faint squeak. Their mouths part when they run out of air, bodies not pausing in their frantic race for climax.

 

“Come again for me,” he whispers into her open mouth. “Please, Katniss. Can’t hold on much longer.”

 

“Ung,” she moans, arching her body into his, her neck stretched tight and exposed to him. “Don’t know if I can.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Peeta insists, running his tongue up the column of her throat and then slipping one hand between them to rub furious circles over her clit while he devours her earlobe and pours broken, honeyed words into it.

 

“Feels so--so--fucking good--” Peeta gasps out as his hips begin to snap. The dual sensations of his hand and dick send her rocketing sky high. Towards the stars. The world turns black for just a second as every fiber of her being condenses and springs free with soft bursts of light.

 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Katniss,” he whimpers in her ear. “Damn you’re squeezing -- so tight -- Fuck! Keep coming on me, Katni-- oh god, oh  _ FUCK _ !”

 

The last world is almost a squeal on his lips. She’s still trembling from head to toe as he yanks himself free of her and settles back on his knees, grips his cock. The tendons in his arm strain against his skin as he frenetically pumps himself, his other hand clutching tight to her still raised knee. Her body languishes in the aftermath as Peeta’s head tilts back and he bites his lip, satisfied moans escaping as his cum spurts out and bathes her hips and lower abdomen.

 

Katniss licks her lips as Peeta continues to lazily stroke himself, his entire torso heaving in the fight to breathe. He’s so radiantly beautiful with the moonlight casting shadows across his pale skin, contouring the muscles toned through years of wrestling and hefting bread trays and hundred pound sacks of flour through his family’s bakeries.

 

His lashes finally flutter open and he stares down at her, sprawled wide open on his bed. Perhaps she should feel self-conscious but she can’t. Not with the way he’s gazing at her. She doesn’t want morning to ever arrive.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

To distract herself from her confusingly troublesome thoughts, Katniss stares at the spray of semen decorating her body.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Katniss,” Peeta says. “I should’ve asked if that was okay. I just...didn’t want you to have anything to worry about.”

 

Swirling two fingers through the mess, Katniss gathers as much as she can on her fingers, her hand shaking with nerves over what she’s about to do. She’s given head before, but always preferred spitting to swallowing. For some reason, though, her core throbs at the thought of tasting Peeta. He’s certainly familiarized himself with  _ her  _ taste. WIth a deep breath, she locks eyes with him and watches his features shift from mortified to astonished as she lifts her fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean.

 

“Holy fuck,” Peeta whispers before crashing his mouth to hers. The kiss is wild and leaves no room for breathing or thinking or anything other than feeling. Burning.

 

“That is so fucking hot, Katniss,” Peeta says as he pulls back. She does it again, unable to suppress a quiet moan this time as she savors his salty flavor. Then she pins him with her eyes and gives him the best answer she’s able to right now.

 

“Next time, I want you to cum inside me.”

 

“Next time?” he asks hopefully as he collapses beside her on the bed.

 

“You think we can do this? The no demands on each other?” she asks boldly, trying to hide the fear she feels at taking this risk. Something flickers in Peeta’s eyes, but he shifts his body and pulls her into him, buries his face in the crook of her neck.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “Nothing is more important to me than our friendship, Katniss. I won't screw it up. I mean, I graduate in six months, so I think I can keep it together that long.”

 

Her heart thuds in her chest as Peeta kisses her neck, softly, adoringly. When he stops, she mourns the loss of his lips and bites her cheek to keep from telling him that he’s not the one she’s worried about screwing up their friendship. As she lays there, listening to his gentle snores, she can’t help but wonder what the hell she’s gotten herself into.

 

In the morning, she wakes early and sits for a moment, staring as Peeta sleeps. Leaning over him, she kisses him until he wakes, which startles him, but then he smiles at her, bright as the sun.

 

“Hey there,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep as he massages her scalp and pulls her back down to return the kiss tenfold. Her toes curl and she’s calculating whether or not she has time for one more round with Peeta when he releases her mouth and sighs before pecking her cheek one last time.

 

“I suppose you have to get going,” he murmurs regretfully.

 

“Yeah,” she says and extricates herself from his embrace, although she takes the blanket, wrapped around her to cover her naked body. Everything from the waist down is marvelously sore and she teeters on her feet for a moment before gaining her equilibrium. As she gathers her scattered clothing, Peeta stretches and rises from his bed, unabashedly nude. Her cheeks heat and her middle cartwheels at the sight and she does another quick mental calculation, still coming up unfortunately short on time. 

 

“I have to go finish packing,” she says once she’s found her underwear. Peeta’s tugging his jeans from yesterday back on and pauses to run a hand through his hair.

 

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit, then.”

 

“Yeah, see you soon,” she answers, and before things can turn awkward, she opens the door and checks that the hallway is clear before dashing down it’s length to her own room.

 

As soon as she shuts her door behind herself, she shifts into what Finnick refers to as her robotic mode, where she just moves, accomplishing one task after another without feeling anything. She finds something to wear, shrugs into a pair of pajamas, and makes the lonely trek to her bathroom where she showers. She dresses and braids back her hair, brushes her teeth and returns to her room. She finishes packing her things, stips the sheets from her bed and shoves her dirty laundry in a bag. Then she begins to cart things down the stairs.

 

The pungent smell of coffee and whatever is cooking for breakfast wafts out of the kitchen as she bypasses it to take her things outside and deposit them in the trunk of her car. When all that’s left is her bookbag -- containing her wallet and phone, a few important papers, a tin of cinnamon altoids, a stick of deodorant and one of lip balm -- she finally braves the kitchen.

 

“Hey, Catnip!” Gale says and folds her into a rough hug. Her eyes briefly catch Peeta’s over Gale’s shoulder, but his cheeks pinken and he turns away quickly. Fighting back a feeling of disappointment, she reminds herself that this is what she wanted.

 

“Where’d you disappear to last night?” Gale asks, cutting into her thoughts. Johanna snorts as Gale releases her, the rude noise cut off abruptly. Katniss just catches Peeta glaring at Johanna who rolls her eyes at him and waves him off. Her stomach sinks as she wonders what they talked about this morning. Most days, she can’t figure out the weird relationship Peeta cultivated with Johanna. Usually, it resembles that of siblings, but other days, there seems to be some kind of bond that she’s not privy to. Today, it drives a spike of rage through her. 

 

“I felt like catching up on my sleep. Before unpacking and the new job take over my life,” she tells Gale and tries for a smile. He tugs on her braid and motions towards the counters.

 

“Well, Johanna and Peeta somehow managed a feast for you this morning, so eat up before we head out.”

 

Although Katniss loads her plate, the food tastes strange on her tongue. Peeta barely looks at her unless someone else is talking to her and there’s an easy way for him to join the conversation. She briefly wonders if this cold treatment is his idea of not making this the awkward morning after.

 

She wants to stand up on her chair and declare to him that he’s failed miserably, and if he can’t keep this promise, what other promises will he be breaking. It doesn’t help that Johanna keeps shooting her infuriatingly  _ knowing _ looks. Katniss wants to smack the smirk off her face. She would if she didn’t know for a fact that the other girl could probably break her arm before Katniss even got within an inch of her goal.

 

After she’s finished eating, her roommates each give Katniss a hug. Madge holds her tightly and then presses a sweet kiss to her cheek as she wishes Katniss luck. Johanna nearly knocks her off her feet. Finnick crushes her and lifts her straight into the air, then smacks a loud kiss to the cheek Madge did not kiss.

 

“To keep your  face symmetrical,” he claims as he sets her back on her feet. “Everyone knows symmetrical people are more attractive, and you need all the help you can get.”

 

Annie shoves him out of the way before Katniss can retort. They’re not as close, so Annie keeps the embrace short. Gale says he’ll save his for when they get to Louisville, which leaves Peeta.

 

Winding her arms around his neck, she plasters her frame to his, melting a little as he slides his hands up her back to gently hold her, his lips brushing her earlobe. Warmth suffuses every nerve and she doesn’t care how many witnesses they have. She doesn’t want to let go first.

 

“Have a safe trip,” Peeta requests. “Call us or something when you get there, okay?”

 

Rather than risk her voice breaking, Katniss nods and turns away from him, following Gale towards the kitchen door. In the opening, she pauses, resting her hand on the scarred frame and glancing back for one last image of them all. She gives a sad wave and then leaves.

 

************************

 

Katniss loves her new apartment. Really, she does. Perhaps it’s small, just one bedroom with a combined living room and open kitchen, but it’s also quiet. The heater works perfectly, and she gets to decorate it any way that she wants. Without her still living mother haunting the walls or her dead father haunting her dreams.

 

“Where do you want this?” Gale asks as he brings in the last of the boxes. “It’s labeled ‘Books.’”

 

“In the living room is fine,” she tells him.

 

Once he’s set the box down, they stand awkwardly in the living room. She hates farewells and she’s had more than enough for one day. Gale scrubs the back of his neck and gives her a nervous smile. She’s dreading whatever he thinks he needs to say to her.

 

“You know, Catnip,” he begins. “We’ve been friends a long time--”

 

“Gale,” she says as she closes her eyes and lifts a hand, as though the motion could ever stop him when he’s got his stubborn mind set on something.

 

“And we’ve had our rough patches.”

 

Katniss laughs mirthlessly, tipping her head back as she stares at the ceiling. She can’t believe he’s bringing up their failed attempt at dating after he’d graduated high school. He didn’t go anywhere at the time, electing to stay at home and work for two years to save up for college. It was awful. At one point, they could read each other so well. Think and move almost as one. Dating threw a wrench in their friendship that had to be pried out. Only distancing herself from him for two years after they finally called it quits worked to start the healing. It took them a long time to trust each other the first time around. Even longer the second. 

 

“I’m not blind you know,” he continues. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. You never looked at me that way.”

 

“I really don’t want to do this right now, Gale,” she says, annoyed at the accusing tone he’s taken, and stalks off to the kitchen. She doesn’t need Gale telling her to not screw this up, to not break Peeta’s heart. Sure, that’s what she’s partially afraid of, but there’s more to it than that, and Gale will be one of the few people to understand this about her.

 

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he says in a rush. “Look, I’m not saying this because I love you, or because I’m jealous of him. I mean, I do and I am--”

 

Katniss groans and slices open one of her kitchen boxes, distracting herself from the words she half suspected but didn’t want to face. They’ve already done this dance. It didn’t work. She has no desire to try again. And she’d thought he’d gotten over it and could just be her friend again.

 

She bends her head and focuses on the contents of the box. It doesn’t contain much, just basics she’s slowly collected over the last year whenever she was able to squirrel away some money. As much as she hates it, most of her first paycheck will have to go towards furnishing her apartment. She doesn’t even have a couch or a bed yet. She’ll be sleeping on an air mattress for awhile. Gale doesn’t seem to care that she’s trying to ignore him and forges ahead.

 

“Katniss, listen to me!” His harsh words finally grab and hold her attention. “Don’t get into whatever this thing is with Peeta too deep, alright. I know you.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she bites out, plunking her pots onto the counter with a not nearly satisfying enough  _ clang! _

 

“You’re a runner, Katniss. When things get too rough, you cut ties and run. Then you mope around for months wondering why you’re so lonely. Anyone not vital to your life but who gets too close or becomes a risk to your survival, gets cut out of your life. It’s what you did to me. And it’s what you’ll do to yourself over Peeta.”

 

She stares agog at him, stunned that her best friend, the one person she always thought knew her so well, despite that one insane idea that they themselves should date, would think that she’s that cold. She isn’t, is she?

 

“Get out,” she whispers.

 

“Catnip, please don’t.”

 

“Gale, just go,” she says. He purses his lips together as his spine stiffens.

 

“Fine,” he says. “But when this little fling shatters you both, don’t come running to me for a shoulder to cry on, okay? I don’t fucking understand what you two see in each other anyways.”

 

“Fine!” she shouts and Gale stalks loudly out of her apartment, slamming the door behind him. She wants to chase after him. To tell him she can find a way to look past his hurtful words. But neither of them are very forgiving. It’s why they didn’t work the first time around. Too much flash and anger to survive without tearing one another to shreds.

 

Katniss turns her back on her door and throws herself into the next phase of her life. She finishes unpacking the kitchen and then moves into the bathroom, hanging her towels on the rack and stocking the cabinet and shower with her toiletries. Once that’s done, she starts on the bedroom, where she sets up the air mattress, making it into the closest she can get it to a bed with the sheets and blankets she used in her room at the big house. As she smooths out the comforter, her phone starts ringing.

 

When she picks it up, she nearly throws it back down, her hand feeling singed by the thing bearing Peeta’s smiling face and name. But she promised she’d call and didn’t.

 

“Hey,” she says as she answers the call.

 

“Hey, so I assume you made it there safely. Gale just got back and--”

 

“Can we not talk about Gale?” she snaps. Peeta’s silent for a moment.

 

“Uh, okay. We can do that,” he says evenly, and she knows he’s trying to read her voice since he can’t see her face. He clears his throat. When he speaks again, it’s with the voice she knows and loves. The one of late night baking and binge eating sessions in the kitchen. “Tell me about your place.”

 

“What? Like describe it to you?”

 

“Yeah,” he says cheerfully. “Paint me a picture.”

 

“Okay,” she says and kicks off her shoes before stretching out on her air mattress. “It has walls and windows. Oh and a door.”

 

“Thank you, Michaelangelo,” he says and her face splits into a grin. “What color are these walls?”

 

“White,” she responds.

 

“Riveting,” he teases.

 

“Um, the kitchen and living room are open, like a combined room, and uh, I really think I’m gonna need to invest in curtains because all the windows have those hideous old metal mini blinds.”

 

“There you are. Just needed to warm you up a bit,” he says and she can hear the smile in his voice. Already she’s relaxing. “So what’s the kitchen like? Tiny and inadequate? Or do you have one of those wide marble countertops?”

 

“No,” she answers. “Limited counter space.”

 

“Damn,” he mutters and it piques her curiosity.

 

“Why do you ask?”

 

“Because I wanna lay you out on your countertop and drive my dick into you until you come so hard, the neighbors hear you scream my name.”

 

“Peeta,” she gasps, but already she’s growing damp. She wants to throw on the brakes, to remind him that they agreed to no demands. She wants to go lay on the counter and finger herself while he talks her through it. Unable to make up her mind, she says nothing else.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Is this allowed?”

 

“Maybe not tonight,” she says and bites her lip, waiting for a tirade.

 

“Okay,” he says instead and she nearly sighs audibly in relief. “So what else? This place have it’s own bathroom? Or is it old enough to have one of those creepy community ones?”

 

“No, it has it’s own,” she answers tentatively, suddenly thinking about kissing Peeta under the warm spray of her shower. “With a shower and everything.”

 

“Convenient,” he says. “How close is it to your job? The apartment not your bathroom...although I guess that’s basically the same thing.”

 

Katniss laughs in a short burst before answering him. They talk for over an hour, and when they finally hang up, she yawns deeply, content. Her stomach growls loudly since the last time she ate was the lunch she and Gale had right after they got to Louisville. Peeling herself off the mattress, she heads into the kitchen where she tossed the stack of takeout menus the landlord handed her along with the keys, thumbing through them until she finds one that sparks her interest. 

 

Once her belly is full, she changes into pajamas and then checks the door and window locks before crawling beneath her covers. It takes her awhile to finally find sleep, the unfamiliar noises, reasonable temperature, and absence of a warm body beside her preventing her from answering the pull of Morpheus. It’s when she’s right on the brink that she wonders why Peeta never asked her about her bedroom.


	3. Double Hit

Christmas flies by in a mostly lonely haze since Katniss hasn’t built up enough vacation days to drive home yet, and her sister spending money to come see her is out of the question. Prim complained for a few minutes until Katniss reminded her that the money would be better spent on medical school. At least they both had paid for and working internet, so they were able to Skype. Katniss gave Prim a virtual tour of her place. Although Prim had commented on how nice it was, Katniss could tell her little sister felt heartsick for her.

 

It’s hers but the place still doesn’t feel like home. Opened but only partially unpacked boxes litter the space. She has yet to find time to go get a bed for herself, nevermind any other kind of furniture. All she’s managed to find are some lamps at a second hand store to add depth and variety to the lighting, and some sheer curtains to at least hide the hideous blinds and give her some semblance of privacy. 

 

Although, the apartment began to feel slightly more homey after Prim insisted they sing some Christmas carols and open their presents for one another while on Skype. Fond memories tend to work that kind of magic on Katniss.

 

Her job with the city’s park services is great, at least. And she buries her burgeoning loneliness under projects and getting to know her co-workers. There’s one girl in particular, Rue, who with her rapid birdlike mannerisms and perpetual eagerness, reminds her of Prim. Rue and Katniss fell easily into a smooth working relationship.

 

There’s also her boss, Haymitch, who spends most of his days with his feet propped on his desk and drool seeping from the corner of his mouth while he naps. Katniss is fairly certain he keeps a bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer. But he doesn’t bother her much and lets her take on projects without much interference, so she can’t complain about him too much.

 

Another bright spot is the time she spends talking to Peeta, usually over the phone, but sometimes over Skype. Busy with extra shifts at his job at school and then the start of the semester, he’s unable to come visit her until early February. When he does, though, he’s true to his word.

 

The day dawns cloudy and Katniss keeps herself busy at work, only allowing herself two minutes to stare at the text he sends her just before lunch, letting her know his only class on Fridays just released and he’ll be at her place in about five hours. Her middle does an acrobatic flip at the realization that he’ll be in her place tonight, after almost two months apart. 

 

By the time she makes it home, the clouds have long since opened, covering the earth in a cold, steady rain. The pattering on the windows soothes her jumpy nerves while she changes out of work clothes and flies around her place trying to make things presentable. Until his knock on her door sets her heart on a frantic flight.

 

“Hey,” Katniss greets breathlessly. It took way too much time and energy to tidy up her still unfurnished apartment. Not to mention, her back is starting to pay the price for sleeping on the air mattress.

 

“Hey,” he says with a wide smile and presents her with a plastic tub, the clear walls still clouded with steam. “Cheese buns as promised.”

 

“Oh my god, I think I love you!” She exclaims as she snatches the container from his hands, heedless of what she just blurted out. “It’s been so long since I’ve had fresh baked anything.”

 

Turning her back on Peeta, she forgets to even invite him in and misses the strange look that passes over his face as she hurries to the kitchen to load the treat on plates. But as soon as she pops the lid off and the savory, yeasty aroma hits her nose, she decides to forgo the plate and picks one up, eating it straight from the tub.

 

Peeta walks into her place, shutting the door behind him and leans on the counter across from her, watching her eat.

 

“Oh shit,” she mumbles around a mouthful. “You want one?”

 

“I’m good,” he murmurs, his eyes riveted to her mouth. “I like watching you eat my buns.”

 

Katniss swallows the last bit of cheese bun as a new kind of hunger settles in her middle. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she replaces the lid and looks nervously around the apartment, moves to pace the living room. She tossed and turned for hours last night, adding to the ache in her back, wondering if things between them would still be the same. Was that last night in the house with him just a fluke or would it be every bit as incredible if she slept with him again?

 

She spent way too much time analyzing the possibilities and what they would mean.

 

“Katniss,” he says softly, grasping her wrist and turning her to face him. She stares at his chest and the green flannel scarf she gave him draped loosely around his neck. He hasn’t even taken off his coat yet and she bites her lip, berating herself for being the worst hostess ever.

 

“Katniss stop, please,” he murmurs as one finger slides beneath her chin and tilts up so she’s looking at him. Seeing her own fears and doubts reflected in his blue eyes, she relaxes marginally.

 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she confesses.

 

“Neither do I,” he returns. “So we make the rules as we go along. Just please don’t hide from me. Tell me if I’m doing something wrong or bothering you so we can deal with it.”

 

“Okay,” she nods and gives him a soft smile.

 

“Okay,” he echoes, lowering his head towards hers but pausing just above her lips. Her body flushes and tenses with the breath she’s holding.

 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers as his hand shifts so his fingers paint over her cheek his thumb tugging slightly on the corner of her mouth until her lips part on a desperate sigh.

 

“Yes,” she urges and Peeta needs no other encouragement.

 

Her eyes drift closed as he presses his open lips to hers, their tongues meeting in the middle and rubbing softly. She whines slightly, running her hands up his chest to rest on either side of his heart. She feels it thudding, steady, but oh so fast, against her palms. His thumb caresses her cheek and one hand rests on her hip as their lips and tongues move in leisurely reacquainting kisses.

 

They stand in the fading light, rain streaking down her window, and need stirring to an impossible craving somewhere deep inside her. Kisses are no longer enough for her.

 

Katniss pushes his coat off his shoulders. Peeta drops his arms to let the garment fall to the floor, but his hands grasp back onto her as soon as his arms are free, pulling her tight to him so she can feel his swelling erection against her middle. Katniss whimpers into his mouth and he finally comes up gasping for air.

 

“Fuck, I’ve missed your lips,” he pants before bending her back enough so he can blanket her neck with heated licks and desperate sucks. She moves her hips against his until he moans and stands upright, his mouth leaving her so they can remove her shirt.

 

“I’ve missed finding you already in the kitchen late at night, the echoes of laughter you brought to that house,” he croons into her parted lips while their hands bump and jostle to undo and remove her jeans. With a frustrated growl, she leaves that task to him and unbuttons his flannel shirt, their movements choppy and frantic as she shimmies to help him slide her jeans off her hips and their torsos trap her hands between them, slowing down her efforts to get him out of his shirt. She kicks aside the jeans and his hands fling about behind him to get the still buttoned cuffs off his wrists. Katniss unwinds the scarf and drops it by her feet.

 

“We only had the one night, but damn have I missed waking up with you in my arms, your ass teasing me and your hair wild,” he moans into her mouth as she tangles her hands in his hair, cool and damp from the rain. 

 

Their lips slant together as his tongue fills her mouth and her senses, sending coherent thought dancing away. All she can manage to think is a braided chorus of  _ clothes off now _ and his name on constant repeat, mimicking the pattering sounds of the rain. She releases his hair and pushes up on the hem of his t-shirt. Peeta lifts his arms and head to help.

 

“Everywhere I turn,” he whispers as they work to remove the soft white garment, “I’m tortured with memories. My bed. The shower. The pool table. Even the fucking couch.”

 

Her hands falter on his jeans as he undoes the clasp on her bra. Through the desperate haze, she manages to ask him, though.

 

“The couch?”

 

“Yeah,” he admits, his pink cheeks turning redder, the ruddy hue adorable on him. He hides his face from her as he drops soft kisses on her bare shoulders, sending shivers through her and pooling arousal in her panties. “I miss those nights you’d snuggle up next to me while we watched movies and so often fell asleep on top of me. I love being able to just hold you.”

 

A strange giddiness travels through her limbs as she grabs him by the ears and pulls him up to look at her. She smiles shyly at him and then whimpers as he rejoins their lips. Their hands move wildly over hair and naked torsos, too consumed to let let their touches linger, as they kiss for what might be hours or minutes. She’s busy swallowing every last little gasp and moan of his, giving them right back as they taste and taste until her lips are sore. 

 

“What else do you miss?” she asks finally and Peeta groans.

 

“Those fucking shorts you’d wear around the house,” he admits as they peel off her bra and then she’s finally able to get his jeans off him, taking his boxers along for the ride because she’s painfully aroused and beyond wet, catapulted into some foreign land of need where all she can think about is getting his cock inside of her somehow. And if the flush covering his erection and the eager way it leaps free of his clothes is any indication, he is too.

 

“What about my shorts?” she asks as she licks her lips and drops to her knees, considering his length and how she’s going to get it to fit in her mouth. She settles for fisting him with one hand and just swallowing as much as she can, sucking hard on him as she pulls her mouth back off him.

 

“Fuck, Katniss,” he moans, gathering her hair in his hands and gently piling it on the crown of her head, out of her way.

 

“The shorts,” she prompts, her hand pumping his length.

 

“They’d turn me on so much I’d have to sneak away, dreaming about those legs wrapped around me, and jerk myself off so you wouldn’t see how goner I was for you. How hot and hard I’d get around you. I didn’t want to risk your friendship with an ill timed erection.”

 

Glancing up at him, she watches him swallow nervously. He already once admitted he’d frequently think of her while he masturbated, but now she has a specific image in her head. 

 

“Show me,” she commands. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

 

Peeta bites his lip, but he wraps one hand around hers, leaving the other to corral her hair. Together, they work his length, starting with slow, long strokes that stretch his skin so far she worries about hurting him. But his hips start rocking in time with their motions and his soft grunts send swift bolts of desire straight to her core. All the while, Peeta holds her gaze, his blue eyes dark with desire.

 

Darting her tongue out, Katniss touches it to him, near their fists, and licks up the underside with one of their strokes, swirling it around his head as he groans loudly.

 

“Did you think about this too?” she asks. “About my mouth on you?”

 

“I--Katniss, I--don’t--just--please,” he stutters and she smiles up at him, boldness sweeping through her.

 

“Because I used to think about your mouth on me, Peeta,” she whispers, rewarded with a gasp. He makes her feel daring and sensual in a way she never has before. She feels the memory of their night together, each of his curses and moans, every desperate thrust of his hips, in a surge of courage that allows her to voice these things. Things she’d never be able to say to anyone else. “I’d come so hard imagining you tonguing me. And then you made me come even harder when you did it for real. Now I can’t stop thinking about you, or wanting you.”

 

“Shit,” he mutters as she opens her mouth and takes him in again. His hand leaves hers to squeeze and stroke him on its own, returning to her hair. He pushes on her head gently, to get her to go faster, but not to ram himself down her throat. Her clit is throbbing, though, so she slips one hand down her panties and presses lazy circles onto it to give herself some relief.

 

“Oh fuck,” Peeta moans. “Are you touching yourself?”

 

Katniss moans around him in affirmation and his hips jerk, his fingers digging into her scalp.

 

“Slow down, Katniss,” he urges, using his hands to slow her motions, to show her. “Can you, oh god, can you make yourself come with my cock in your mouth?”

 

She’s not sure that she can, but she eases up on him enough to focus on herself, dipping her fingers through her folds to gather her natural lubricant before returning to her clit and rubbing it while Peeta guides her head in gentle bobs. 

 

“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he whispers. She looks back up at him and watches his eyes dart between watching her hand between her legs, her mouth as he disappears inside it and then reappears, and her eyes. The naked desire she sees there stuns her, makes her feel powerful. Leaving her thumb on her clit, she pushes two fingers inside herself and curls them to massage her g-spot. She moans around him again and Peeta curses.

 

“I can hear how wet you are, Katniss,” he hisses out her name at the end. “I’ve missed your taste so bad. It’s burned onto my tongue and I wanna stop this right now so badly just so I can lick up your juices. But oh fuck, I want you to come like this, too.”

 

His filthy words spur her onward, closer to the edge, her motions becoming frantic to the point that she loses some of the rhythm of sucking him off; but Peeta doesn’t seem to mind. As her moans grow in intensity, vibrating around him, his words grow hotter and dirtier and she swears she feels him swelling in her mouth.

 

“That’s it, Katniss. Fuck I’ve missed those sexy little whimpers, too. Feels so good on my skin. Oh yeah, come all over you fingers. I’ll lick them clean for you, just fucking come so I can taste your pussy and make you come again with my tongue.”

 

Her body bows with her impending orgasm and Peeta groans above her.

 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Katniss. Fuck I love watching me in your mouth. Think I love watching you finger yourself more.”

 

Katniss only gets a few more good sucks on him before she gives up completely and shatters in one brief burst against her fingers, her uncontrolled moans sending a shudder through Peeta’s whole body. She’s still lost in the throes as Peeta pulls her mouth off of him and then pulls her upright, her fingers still buried between her clamped thighs as she rides out the diminishing spasms of her release . She vaguely feels his lips on hers then traveling down her body, nipping at her waist and hips as he holds her upright. Then cool air caresses her newly revealed skin as he removes her panties. Peeta pulls her fingers from her heat and then, as promised, sucks them into his mouth.

 

She mewls at the ridiculous amount of pleasure that causes as her knees wobble. Pushing him with her free hand towards the bedroom. They stumble the short distance, but Peeta pauses just inside the door, looking askance at her air mattress.

 

“Oh we need to fix that,” he says and she scowls at his assessment of her new home.

 

“You don’t like my decorating methods?” she asks, a little hurt. He knows how tight things have always been for her family. He knows she wouldn't have been able to afford furniture right after graduation.

 

“I’m concerned that I’ll burst that thing,” he says. “What’s the weight rating on it?”

 

Satisfied that he’s more concerned with that than the lack of real furniture, Katniss teases the hair at the nape of his neck and nibbles on his earlobe.

 

“I’m sure it can take our weight,” she says soothingly.

 

“Maybe if we’re sleeping,” he says, his voice dark and seductive. “But probably not anything more vigorous than that.”

 

Desire flares back to life between her legs and she nips at his neck, impatiently rubbing her naked body against his. Peeta groans and grips her ass, tugging her hips into his. Katniss gasps in surprise when Peeta drops her onto the edge of the mattress. It squeals in protest as he lowers himself over her.

 

“Wanna test its resilience anyways?” he asks as he hooks her leg over his arm, the air mattress groaning beneath their combined weight as her legs open for him and he sinks into her waiting warmth.

 

Her recently satiated walls welcome him as he grips her hips to steady her and throws his head back to shout. All words are lost as they move together, her hips lifting to meet his, fingers clinging to his arms. 

 

“Missed those breathy little whimpers you make with my cock inside you,” he moans with heated, wistful  tones. He adjusts his knee so it’s resting on the floor, his thrusts deepen with the added stability, drawing out exactly the sound he describes.

 

She doesn’t tell him she’s missed all the things he’s already mentioned and so much more, like the feel of him grinding down on her clit like that while his cock is deep enough to send shards of lightning through her, pushing her further towards desperation. She’s been starving for him, for the feel of them moving together in the darkness.

 

“Peeta,” she she moans as her release dances out of reach for a second. His hand slides up her body to cup her breast and he breathes hot air across it. Her walls spasm around him in response. “Ohh-oooooh.”

 

“Oh god, Katniss. Missed the feel of you squeezing me like that,” he groans before his mouth closes over her nipple and sucks. Hard. 

 

She bends, shoving her chest up into his face as her hips jerk beneath him. It’s too much, his mouth and cock. Before she has time to even register what’s happening to her, she’s flying apart in a rapid succession of primal screams and convulsing waves. 

 

As the tremors pass and she returns to earth, she hears herself mumbling nonsensical things, feels her hips still rolling under him, encouraging him to keep moving at a slower pace and drawing out the last shocks. As her body releases her from the turbulence of her climax, Katniss enfolds on him, panting and moaning her bliss against the side of his neck. Her body languishes, limbs turned to molasses. Peeta gradually lowers himself, only allowing some of his weight to press down on her. She can’t remember the last time she felt so  _ good _ . So relaxed. So thoroughly sexed and satisfied.

 

Peeta kisses her temple and brushes back her hair. She realizes then that he’s murmuring to her, words of love and desire. She remembers now the last time she felt like this. It was on the pool table. In the shower after. In his bed. 

 

Before that train of thought leads her down a path she can’t face just yet, she tries to remember if Peeta came too, just now. Guilt swamps her as she admits that she has no idea.

 

“Peeta,” she whispers.

 

“Yeah?” he asks quietly.

 

“Did you, um...I mean I couldn’t tell if you uh…” she trails off and traces random patterns on his shoulders and back with her fingers. She feels awful for being so concerned with her own pleasure. Especially after she tried to suck him off and instead ended up fingering herself to completion, even though he was the one who commanded her to do just that.

 

“Did I what?” he asks. “Not sure I have the brainpower to fill in the blanks right now, Katniss.”

 

Slowly, she lifts her head, even though all she wants to do is lie there with him blanketing her in scorching heat.

 

“Did you, you know, orgasm?” She whispers the word and flushes even more, embarrassment mingling with post-coital heat on her face as he grins at her.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teases her and she swats at him.

 

“No riddles, Peeta. Just answer me.”

 

He laughs, grasping her wrist before turning it over to kiss the delicate skin. She shivers at the heat the simple caress causes.

 

“I think I’ll put that on my resume,” he says and kisses higher on her arm, up towards her elbow. “Made Katniss Everdeen climax so hard she didn’t even notice I filled her with my cum at the same time.”

 

“Asshole,” she mutters, but shoves his hand away so she can wrap her arms around him and kiss him. They’re still kissing when he softens and slips from her. The loud growl of her stomach interrupts further, severing the thread holding them suspended in the afterglow. Ruefully ending the kiss, Katniss sighs as Peeta rolls off of her and she staggers to her feet.

 

As Peeta stretches languidly on her makeshift bed, the sheets tangle around his hips and legs. Biting her lip, Katniss watches him a few minutes, until he catches her staring. She jumps and turns to retreat to the bathroom, but Peeta surges to his feet and wraps her in a tight hold, flush against him.

 

“Just gonna get cleaned up and then we can scrounge up some dinner,” she explains, embarrassed at being caught staring so openly at him.

 

“Oh no, Everdeen,” he teases, lifting her off her feet as she yells at him to put her down. “You ogle me like that, I at least get to wash your hair.”

 

He takes four loping strides to reach the bathroom, slinging her over his shoulder as he starts the water. He smacks her ass lightly and she yelps, wriggles to free herself of his grip. When he finally sets her down in the shower, following her into the shroud of steam, they’re both grinning from ear to ear. Flattening her palms on his chest, she pushes him into the wall. He protests weakly over the chill of the tiles on his skin, but stops when she molds her body from their lips to their toes to his.

 

************************

 

“Shit,” Peeta groans, pulling Katniss from her sleep. “I was afraid of this.”

 

She blinks and rubs the sleep from her eyes, surprised at the sliver of sunlight shining through the crack in the curtains. She tries to roll over, but a sharp pang up her spine renders her immobile. It takes her a minute to realize that the hard surface she’s feeling beneath her is the floor. Sometime during the night, the air mattress deflated beneath them.

 

“You okay, Katniss?” Peeta asks and she groans in pain. He grabs her and pulls her to rest on top of him. She groans again as his hands work over her back muscles, this time in acute relief as he massages the kinks from her body. Every now and then, she plants a kiss on his chest.

 

When he’s finished and she’s completely boneless on top of him, she props her chin on her folded arms and looks down at him.

 

“We popped my air mattress, didn’t we?”

 

“Must have,” he says sheepishly, although there’s an arrogant grin flirting with his lips, too. Not that she has anyone to blame but herself. After all, she was the one who woke him in the middle of the night, ordering him to slake the need that had gripped her in the midst of her dreams. She was the one who lifted her hips in the air, shoving her swollen lips into his face and his groin as he alternated tonguing her with pounding into her from behind. Katniss was the one demanding “Harder!” But damn if it wasn’t worth the air mattress casualty.

 

“S’okay,” she tells him. “I’ve been meaning to get a bed anyways.”

 

“What’s the holdup?” he asks softly. Katniss shrugs.

 

“Don’t know. I’ve got the money now. I just didn’t much feel like going shopping for a bed.”

 

At this, Peeta pinches her ass and then rolls her off of him.

 

“Well, we’ll just grab some breakfast and then go shopping for your new bed.”

 

“Peeta,” she protests as he stands and helps her up. “Furniture shopping cannot be what you had in mind for this weekend.”

 

“I really don’t mind,” he says with a soft smile. “As long as I get to spend time with you.”

 

Still doubting his sincerity, she crosses her arms and works up a decent argument. Peeta beats her to it, though.

 

“Besides,” he says as he heads towards her bathroom with a grin lighting his face, “To do what I had in mind, we’re gonna need a bed.”

 

She laughs, but follows him into the shower. 

 

Once they’ve both showered and dressed, Katniss rummages in her pantry and together, they throw together a quick breakfast. Peeta scours the internet for sales and when they’re full and refreshed, the pair heads to the outskirts of town to a store advertising same day in town delivery.

 

Peeta’s hair is still damp from the shower and Katniss teases him about it.

 

“If you get sick, you can’t stay here.”

 

“I’m hurt,” he says, holding one hand over his chest. “You wouldn’t take care of me?”

 

“No,” she says with a shake of her head and a laugh. “Sick boys are the worst.”

 

“You speaking from experience there, Everdeen?”

 

Katniss has to look away for a second, as she’s suddenly thinking of Gale and their awful last conversation. He’s really the only guy she’s tried to take care of while he was sick, but Peeta and Gale no longer peacefully co-exist in her thoughts.

 

She shrugs, and Peeta thankfully promises to not get sick and then changes the topic. When they reach the store, Katniss curls further in on herself the instant a saleswoman approaches them.

 

“Welcome to Capitol Furniture!” She trills. “I am Effie and would be delighted to assist you in any way possible!”

 

“Hi, Effie,” Peeta says with a bright smile and a quick shake of her hand. “We’re here to look for a bedroom suite and we’re starting from the rails up, so we’ll need a mattress, too. 

 

As Katniss watches, Effie’s eyes light and she leans in to touch Peeta’s arm as she begins to babble to him about their selection whilst leading them towards the back of the store. The movement pisses Katniss off and she feels herself scowling darkly at the woman in a short dress with ridiculous nails and even more ridiculous heels. Seriously. Who the hell wears five inch Jimmy Choo’s to a job on her feet and oh god why does she even know those are Jimmy Choo’s? Too much time around Johanna and Madge, clearly.

 

Also, Effie’s hair is ugly.

 

The mean thoughts trip to a halt, though, when they reach the right section and Peeta holds his hand out to help Katniss onto one of the test mattresses while he keeps talking with Effie. Katniss has no clue what they’ve covered so far, and grabs Peeta’s hand perhaps a little too forcefully, annoyed with this entire endeavor. Before she swings her body onto the mattress, Peeta glances back at her, his lips spreading into a devastating smile. Then he winks at her.

 

Christ, she didn’t think people could really have a smile that made someone go weak in the knees. But she has to basically launch herself onto the mattress before she makes an idiot of herself. As she flops around on the bed, Peeta wraps up with Effie, who hustles away to leave them to test the mattresses only after Peeta promises to call her back if they have any questions.

 

With a content sigh, Peeta sits down and then stretches out beside her on the bare mattress. Katniss wriggles around for another minute or two and when she chances a look over at Peeta, she feels her ire rise again. He’s staring at her with only one eye open, the eyebrow above it arched and his lips quivering in what she can only assume is a hundred teasing comments that he’s holding back.

 

“What?” she asks angrily.

 

“Are you settled over there?”

 

“No,” she says and maturely sticks her tongue out at him before one last shuffle of her body to finally find a comfortable position. Peeta bursts into laughter and she glares at him. “What is so funny, Mellark?”

 

“Nothing,” he says. “You’re just cute when you’re peeved about something.”

 

“I am not peeved about anything,” she insists with warmed cheeks. Then she lowers her voice to a hiss so the crazy lady in Jimmy Choo heels won’t hear her. “That lady gives me the heebies.”

 

“She doesn’t seem too bad,” Peeta says and Katniss snorts. Rolling to his side, Peeta faces her fully, propping his head up on his elbow. “What bothers you about her? We can go somewhere else if you want, but I thought she was very informative.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Katniss huffs and rolls onto her side as well, bringing their bodies and noses close together. “I just don’t get how someone can dress like that for this job.”

 

“Well aren’t you a little snob?” he teases and presses a quick kiss to her nose. 

 

“She’s got that way too determined salesperson attitude,” she responds with a kiss to his lips, for a heartbeat longer. As soon as she pulls away, though, Peeta chases after her to lengthen the kiss. She can’t help the small sound of delight that escapes her lips as his massage hers.

 

“Now if you are interested--oh!” Katniss rolls her eyes and gnashes her teeth at Effie’s return. “Are you two darlings, uh, engaged or um…”

 

Effie trails off, and turning her head, Katniss catches the woman craning to get a good look at her left hand. Wonderful. A busy-body saleslady who’s got something against pre-marital bed sharing.

 

“Nope,” Katniss answers in a breathy voice. She throws her leg over Peeta’s and modifies something Peeta said to her yesterday. “I just keep him around for his buns.”

 

Effie’s face turns red and Peeta manages to ask her if they could have just a few more minutes to organize their questions. His voice is choked, though, and Katniss can tell he’s holding back laughter. As soon as Effie is gone again, he buries his face in her neck and his body shakes against hers.

 

“That wasn’t very nice,” he scolds, although it has no edge to it.

 

“You’re the nice one in this relationship,” she says as she flops to face away from him. Now she does want to go somewhere else, feelings of shame rushing in to fill the spaces left by confusion. Effie’s reaction has only served to stir Katniss’ doubts back to life. Once again, she wonders if she’s using Peeta in some way. It doesn’t seem fair; he poured his heart out to her. When she gave nothing back, he stuck around anyway, and so far, hasn’t pushed her to return his declarations.

 

“Maybe,” he says as he winds an arm around her and pulls her towards him. “But I also think this mattress has too little give in it.”

 

“Agreed,” she says, and they move to the next mattress.

 

One by one, they work their way down the line. On the second, they resume their spooning. On the third, she bounces in one corner while he lays prone on his back. On the next, he tickles her until she’s squealing and half the store is staring at them. On the one after that, he apologizes for drawing attention to them, since he knows how much she dislikes that.

 

For once, though, Katniss doesn’t actually care. Mattress shopping would be boring and overwhelming without him. Alone, she’d probably just try out the cheapest one and then buy the thing, resulting in years of aching backs and grumbled complaints as she tears herself from bed in the mornings. With Peeta, though, it almost becomes a game. A fruitful game, though. They’re silly and then serious as they narrow down the choices, and once she’s got it down to three, they spend a few minutes on each one, wrapped in one another’s arms and whispering quietly.

 

“Katniss,” he murmurs and kisses her temples and cheeks.

 

“Huh?” she asks sleepily. Realizing that she drifted off, she startles the rest of the way awake. “How long was I out?”

 

“Only a few minutes,” he tells her. “What do you think?”

 

“This one,” she answers definitively. “Queen size. What do you think?”

 

“It’s your bed, Katniss.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re going to be sleeping on it, too.”

 

“Am I?” he asks with a glint in his eyes and she shoves his chest lightly.

 

“You know what I mean, Peeta Mellark, so stop teasing me.”

 

He grins and sits up in a blur, leaving her breathless and a little disappointed. With a wave of his hand, Peeta summons Effie back over to them. She totters over once more, although her smile is less genial this time.

 

“We’ll take this one in a queen. Do you have it in stock for the same day delivery?”

 

“Of course we do,” Effie says with slight annoyance.

 

“Great!” Peeta says and stands from the bed. “Now we’re also going to need rails and a headboard. Could you point us in the direction of the bedroom suites?”

 

“Of course,” Effie repeats, although now knowing for certain that Katniss and Peeta are serious about a rather large purchase, her entire demeanor lightens. As she leads them to another section of the store, she resumes her incessant sales pitch while Peeta threads Katniss’ arm through his.

 

They walk the sales floor with Effie, never letting the other one go. This part takes far less time. Katniss knows almost immediately which sets she likes and which ones make her cringe. In the end, she settles on a classic but simple mahogany set, which Effie effuses over for a good ten minutes while preparing the purchase papers. 

 

Her smile doesn’t last as Katniss goes into bartering mode and Peeta steps back to let her work the price down. When they leave the store, Effie’s lips are pinched together and her hair is crooked, revealing it to be a wig. Conversely, Katniss is grinning, the paperwork and a business card with the number for the delivery drivers clutched in her hands.

 

“I bought bedroom furniture!” she exclaims out on the street. She’s never had a bed she could truly call her own. In college, she had a bed to herself, but it never belonged to her. First it belonged to the dorms, and then to Madge’s father. Growing up, she shared a bed with her sister. There just wasn’t enough money or space to go around. Not until the company her dad had worked for finally settled their massive number of wrongful death suits. As soon as the money hit the bank account, though, Katniss’ mother had shoved college applications in her girls’ faces.

 

“Your Daddy wouldn’t want you living the way he and I did. Starting now, you make a better life for yourselves,” she declared and hadn’t allowed arguments. Katniss bites her lip at the memory and turns away from Peeta, loathe to let him see her cry over something she should be celebrating. He sees it anyway.

 

“Hey,” he says softly and pulls her into his arms. “What’re you thinking about?”

 

“My dad,” she sniffles into his chest. His hands rub soothing circles over her back.

 

“I bet he’d be so proud of you,” Peeta whispers, his lips brushing through her hair. She nods and sniffles once more before stepping back and wiping her nose with her sleeve.

 

“He would’ve really liked you,” Katniss tells Peeta, uncertain of the source of this belief, only certain of its veracity.

 

“You sure he wouldn’t have chased me off with a shotgun?” Peeta asks and just like that, the clouds clear and Katniss is laughing. “I mean, I can think of some pretty wicked things I’d like to do to his daughter. Just sayin’ is all.”

 

“No,” Katniss insists as she takes his hand in hers and turns to guide them back towards her car. “Okay maybe he’d threaten you with the shotgun, but I think he’d believe you were good for me.”

 

“Am I good for you?” he asks, the question a loaded shotgun between them, turning the air thick with tension. But once more, Peeta dispels it with a few simple words. “We should get some lunch and then find a place with pool tables while we’re waiting on your furniture.”

 

“So I can kick your ass again?”

 

“I forfeited last time, if you will recall.”

 

“I recall you were losing and nearly naked when you forfeited.”

 

“Depends on how you define losing,” he says with a grin and a quick squeeze of her hand.

 

“There’s a place near my apartment,” she says, combatting the blush taking over her face as they reach her car and Peeta lets go of her hand so they can both climb in. She spends extra time adjusting her mirrors, even though they don’t need it, to avoid him seeing how much his last comment affected her. “It’s a little skeazy, but they have good food, decent beer on tap, and cheap tables.”

 

“Alright,” Peeta says. “I’m game if you are.”

 

The second they’re settled and driving towards their destination, Katniss snatches his hand back in hers, resting their twined fingers on the center console. She doesn’t let go of him until they’ve parked and she has no other choice.

 


	4. Scratch

“It looks a hundred times better now that you actually have furniture,” Prim says.

 

“I know,” Katniss says brightly, turning her laptop around so Prim can see her face again, just in time to witness her little sister shoving a handful of almonds in her mouth. She smiles fondly at the sight, struck with a pang of melancholy. Katniss misses her sister, and even though she knows Prim has an exam to study for, she’s not ready to end this call just yet. She already had to let Peeta go earlier today. He stayed as long as he could, and as it is, he won’t be getting back to the house until well after dark. Twirling her braid around her finger, Katniss tries to remove thoughts of Peeta and how they spent the rest of their weekend from her mind so she can focus on her sister.

 

“It’s just the bedroom for right now,” Katniss says. “I’m trying to spread out the cost a little, so the living room is still a total wreck. But I have a bed!”

 

She sets the laptop on the bed and settles in front of it. Hugging one of the pillows she and Peeta picked out early this morning to her chest. They’d gone out to replace her air mattress, something Peeta insisted on doing since Prim would need a place to sleep when she eventually came to visit. Because Katniss managed to broker such a great deal on the furniture, they had also picked out a new comforter and a few decorative pillows. Nothing fussy, just something to add a homey touch to her bedroom. She had tried to dissuade him from paying for it all, but the sneaky bastard had kissed her while he swiped his credit card through the machine. Once the deed was done, he’d soothed her annoyance by explaining that he felt responsible for the destruction of her air mattress and the rest of it was a housewarming gift. Well, she couldn’t argue that he didn’t at least have a fifty percent share in the destruction, so she’d reluctantly allowed it.

 

“It looks really nice,” Prim says. “Did you hire a decorator, too? I mean you’ve got throw pillows and stuff actually hanging on your walls. Not really your thing to dress a room up that way unless someone else is goading you into it.”

 

“No,” Katniss says, smiling at the memories of unpacking the remainder of her clothes and bedroom items, and then hanging her pictures on the walls with Peeta. “I didn’t hire a decorator. A friend helped me.”

 

“Oh,” Prim bemoans. “Madge was there? You should’ve called me sooner. I haven’t talked to her in ages.”

 

“Um, no not Madge,” Katniss says as Prim gets momentarily distracted by something on her phone.

 

“Well I know it wasn’t Gale,” Prim says wryly. “There aren’t any antlers or camo.”

 

Katniss rolls her eyes at Prim’s annoyingly accurate description of Gale’s decorating sensibilities. Which is fine, Katniss always did love tromping through the woods and hunting with her Dad. That’s actually how she and Gale met and became friends, because their father’s were hunting and fishing buddies. It’s just not what _she_ wants in her home.

 

“It was actually Peeta who helped me.”

 

“Peeta?” Prim asks wrinkling her brow. “Did you know him at school? Why does that name sound so familiar? Oh wait! Is he that ridiculously hot blond you lived with?”

 

“I’ve never heard him described that way,” Katniss says haltingly, her face heating and her forehead furrowing with her sister’s sudden enthusiasm.

 

“Oh my god, Katniss,” Prim grouses and rolls her eyes. “I remember him now. How could I forget? He’s not male model pretty like Finnick and he doesn’t have that rugged just so stupidly handsome all the girls wanna bang him look like Gale, but he is most definitely ridiculously hot. Didn’t you notice?”

 

When Katniss flounders for an answer to the weird turn this conversation has taken, Prim charges ahead with her analysis of Peeta.

 

“He’s the one who bakes right? God he could give the angels _and_ the devil a run for their money if baked goods were heaven and sin.”

 

“Okay,” Katniss admits as she picks at her comforter, “I’ll give you the baking thing.”

 

She really doesn’t like talking about Peeta’s attractiveness with her little sister. Not given where she’s sitting and what she and Peeta did here just a few hours ago.

 

“It’s not just the baking,” Prim asserts, clearly warming to her topic. “There’s more to it than that. I mean he has that dirty but wholesome thing going for him. He’s one of those guys you meet and think he’s cute until you get to know him and then _HOLY HOTNESS_!”

 

“What are you talking about?” Katniss says, capitulating control of this conversation.

 

“Total gentleman but that smile of his and his personality just screams, ‘I’m basically sex on a stick.’”

 

“Primrose!” Katniss shouts in mortification, but her sister plunges onward.

 

“I would guess that he’s totally the guy who always pulls out your chair and gives the best compliments that make you feel absolutely stunning and then pampers you at every turn, especially when you’re on your period. So you take him to meet your entire family and your dad actually laughs at his jokes and your mother thinks he’s the sweetest thing ever because he helps take care of your grandmother’s yard and unloads her groceries for her but then tells her there’s no need to thank him; he’s just happy to help. Then two hours later he literally has you tied to the bed and screaming for mercy because there’s _no way_ a woman’s body can orgasm that many times in one day and--”

 

“PRIMROSE MARIE EVERDEEN!” Katniss interjects again, her entire body flaming in the strangest mixture of inconvenient lust and embarrassment.

 

“Oh man, it’s hot in here now,” Prim says, fanning herself and ignoring Katniss’ outburst. “Is he single?”

 

Katniss groans loudly, furiously rubbing her eyes in an attempt to expunge the startlingly accurate description Prim just gave of how she spent her weekend with Peeta...minus the family bit.

 

“What?” Prim asks indignantly. “Can’t I appreciate an attractive man?”

 

“He’s four years older than you.”

 

“So? That’s nothing,” Prim shrugs and shoves more almonds in her mouth while Katniss searches for a way to steer the topic in a safer direction.

 

“He’s not single,” she blurts out the best thing she can think of in the moment to dissuade Prim from her inappropriate thoughts about Peeta. It’s just too weird to think of her little sister viewing her...her what? She doesn’t even know how to refer to him anymore. Whatever, it’s weird knowing that Prim has checked Peeta out to this level.

 

“Damn,” Prim mutters and Katniss breathes a deep sigh of relief. It’s short lived, though.

 

“So wait,” Prim says, munching on her almonds and visibly contemplating whatever conundrum has caught her attention. “You said you bought the furniture and started decorating yesterday and then finished today?”

 

“Um, yes…” Katniss answers, hoping that the truth is the best option in this case.

 

“And Peeta helped you both days?” Prim asks, charging forward with her thoughts before Katniss can answer. “So did he stay the night? Because, wow! You must know his girlfriend pretty well for her to trust you alone over an entire weekend with such a delicious piece of manflesh.”

 

“Please tell me you did not just call Peeta ‘a piece of manflesh,’” Katniss begs, at a total loss as to how to regain the ground she’s lost. It doesn’t matter, though, because the smirk that lights up Prim’s face right then tells her that she’s been caught. She hates it when people figure out her secrets so easily.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Prim squeals when Katniss doesn’t even try to deny it. There’s no point. Prim would see right through her. “How long have you two been together? And oh my god, am I right about him?”

 

Unable to keep silent as the barrage of questions issues forth from Prim’s grinning lips, Katniss does her best to do some damage control at least.

 

“I am not answering that last question, and we’re technically not dating, and if you must know, Nosy Joe, it started back in December. Right before I moved here.”

 

Before her sister can turn into the High Inquisitor, Katniss attempts to explain the arrangement she and Peeta have. Prim’s face darkens, twisted in confusion.

 

“So it’s like long distance friends with benefits who sometimes do couple things like cuddling and furniture shopping and apartment decorating?”

 

“Yes,” Katniss says, grateful to have finally found her footing in this bizarre conversation. But of course, Prim throws her a few more curve balls. The questions come in another barrage.

 

“Are you both allowed to date or sleep with other people? How does that even work? What does Gale think of this? Does he know?” She pauses and Katniss’ stunned silence is a telling answer. “Oh, he hates it, doesn’t he?”

 

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Katniss insists, but her brain is stuck on the idea of Peeta sleeping with someone else, whispering tender words into some other girl’s ear, holding her in his arms, stroking her to completion. It hadn’t even occurred to her until right now. And the very idea makes her eyes burn.

 

Although, knowing how loyal Peeta is, it doesn’t feel like something he would do, playing the field that way. Not after the things he’s said to her about how he feels...but their no demands arrangement was _his_ idea. She shakes her head to dislodge the disturbing thoughts.

 

“No, it doesn’t matter what Gale thinks,” Prim agrees, pulling Katniss back into their conversation. “But is it gonna wreck your friendship with him? You and Gale have been so important to each other for so long. Is sex with Peeta worth that?”

 

“Peeta’s my friend, too,” Katniss whispers.

 

“Wow,” Prim says.

 

“Yeah, I’ve really managed to pile on the drama, haven’t I? I didn’t mean to!”

 

“You have, though,” Prim says and glances down at her phone. “And as much I would love to untangle this delicious mess with you tonight, I’ve really got to study for that exam now. Can we talk about this again tomorrow or something?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Katniss says, trying to disguise her disappointment at having to let Prim off the hook. It’s always been like this since she left for school, though, the feeling that she never gets enough time with her sister anymore. Or that they’re drifting apart.

 

“I love you, Katniss.”

 

“Love you, too, Duck,” Katniss murmurs.

 

After they hang up, Katniss changes into her pajamas and makes sure she’s set for Monday morning before she climbs into bed with a book. She tucks her phone nearby, checking for any messages from Peeta. Nothing yet, but he should be home soon. She gets comfortable and starts reading.

 

The words blur on the pages, though, as her mind churns through everything she and Prim talked about. With a frustrated growl, she eventually gives up and turns off her light, burrowing into her covers and clinging to the the second pillow, the one Peeta used. She inhales deeply, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. The pillow still holds that fresh from the store smell, and her heart sinks a little. Their one night on the new bed together wasn’t enough for Peeta to imbue the pillow or the sheets with his scent. At least not strongly enough for her to be able to discern it.

 

Flinging the pillow aside, she stares at the ceiling and wishes Peeta was there to hold her, to then drag her into the kitchen so they could talk. While he kneads out dough for a breakfast bread, his motions rhythmic and soothing, she could talk to him about Prim and how fast she’s growing. So fast, Katniss can barely breathe. Gone is the little girl with pigtailed braids who clung to Katniss in the aftermath of their father’s death. Gone is the little girl who brushed and styled their mother’s hair and begged her to return from her state of grief. Gone is the little girl who helped Katniss apply makeup so she could lie about her age and get a job at the local hunting supply store at age thirteen, even though all of the men there were friends with her father and knew how old she was. They’d taken pity on her and hired her to keep the shelves in the back room clean and organized. Paid her in cash until she was old enough to legally work and they could bring her out front, give her a raise, because she’d shown them exactly how valuable she could be.

 

Katniss curls up on her mattress and tucks her hands under her cheek. Perhaps the little girl that Prim once was is long gone, but then, so is the girl Katniss once was. Between losing their father, nearly losing their mother, and then staying home to work until their mother demanded they get the hell out of that town and go to college, both Katniss and Prim had to grow up pretty fast.

 

She’s drifting away on fretful thoughts, the knowledge that she’ll probably return to the nightmares of her youth haunting her subconscious, when her phone rings, jarring her back awake.

 

“Hello?” she says before she’s got the phone all the way to her ear.

 

“Hey,” Peeta says, his voice hoarse. “Made it back to the house.”

 

“Thanks for calling,” Katniss says with a soft smile.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

 

“No, I was just getting settled.”

 

“Window or door side of the bed?”

 

“You slept next to me last night, you don’t remember?” she teases. Peeta laughs, but the sound is tired. Worn.

 

“I do remember, but I wasn’t sure if that’s the side you naturally gravitate towards.”

 

“I naturally take up the entire bed,” she tells him, cuddling the pillow to her chest again.

 

“I thought that might be the case this morning when I woke up with your knee on my stomach and your hand on my face.”

 

“Shut up,” she says. “What about you?”

 

“Oh, I may not take the whole bed. I do steal the covers, though.”

 

Katniss laughs a little and then they fall silent. She can hear him breathing on the other end and then the rustle of his sheets. She looks to the empty side of hers and thinks about what he said on Friday. About the memories wrapped in the sheets of his bed torturing him. She’s starting to understand what he meant.

 

“I miss you,” he whispers sleepily, voicing her heart’s thoughts before she herself knows how to quantify them.

 

“Miss you, too,” she murmurs. “When will you be back?”

 

“Don’t know,” he sighs. “I have to work this weekend and then next weekend I’ll probably need to stay here to get some homework and a few projects done.”

 

“Oh,” she says, fighting back a mixture of emotions. They agreed to no demands, and it’s a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. Not just because she’s suddenly wondering if there’s another reason for him staying at school more often than he comes to visit her.

 

“But I do know that Dad’s already got me on the bakery schedule for Spring Break, so I’ll definitely be in town for at least a week then. And you could always come down here for a weekend or two, if you wanted.”

 

“Okay,” she says, brightening a little at having an already determined date to look forward to and avoiding the possibility of her visiting him. It’d be a bad idea to flaunt her relationship with Peeta in Gale’s face. “Think you could spare some time for living room shopping that week?”

 

“Yeah,” he answers with a yawn. “I’d like that. But Katniss, I’m about to fall asleep here.”

 

“Me too,” she whispers, feeling much more relaxed and settled now that she knows he’s safely home. “Talk to you soon.”

 

“Night, Katniss,” he says, his sleepy murmur sending a thrumming through her veins.

 

After they hang up, Katniss settles in her covers and waits for sleep to draw her down again. But the throbbing that has taken residence in her core has other ideas. She shifts her legs and tosses herself to the other side, away from the side Peeta used while he was here. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes deep breaths, even tries counting sheep. But it’s no good. Sheep graze in wide open fields with waving grass and glorious blue skies and her lust-filled brain skips the sheep and goes right to writhing over Peeta beneath the sky.

 

Not a thought that’s conducive to sleeping.

 

With a frustrated growl, she kicks off her covers and flops onto her back. She used to have this problem at school. When he’d say those same words to her in that rumbling murmur that would unleash some kind of wild need in her that wouldn’t quiet until she’d dealt with it. Back then, she tried to pretend it wasn’t Peeta she thought about while she touched herself.

 

Tonight, she doesn’t even try to fight it. There’s no reason to. The old barrier of guilt that she was using her friend to get herself off just to get herself to sleep now nonexistent. After all, if Peeta knew, he’d probably ask if he could watch.

 

Releasing her frustration on a puff of air, she closes her eyes and trails her hands over her hips, the way he did as he moved around the pool table while they were waiting for her furniture to be delivered. Up under her shirt to fondle her breasts the way Peeta did when the bed was assembled and dressed in her sheets. Tilting her head back, she tries to remember the heat of his mouth on her and the dull throbbing grows to an insistent ache.

 

Unlike her time with Peeta, though, she wants to finish fast so she can get to sleep. The slow and sensual can be saved for when he’s actually here with her. Reaching for her nightstand, she gropes around until she finds her vibrator, sending a silent thank you to Johanna for the graduation gift that Katniss had shoved deep in her bags. She turns it on before running it over her still covered folds for a minute, letting go the soft moan stuck in her throat then peeling off her pajama pants and panties.

 

As she parts her folds and slides it in, she sighs in relief at the feel of it massaging her inner walls, purposely clenching them to heighten the feeling, pulling another soft moan from her. Gradually, her hips begin to rock on the bed to the memory of Peeta’s deep thrusts as they broke in her mattress, his salacious words as he demanded her unfiltered thoughts and unrestrained pleasure.

 

The vibrator burrows inside her with each of her movements, sending her spiraling upwards. She thinks of how Peeta paused with her dangling off the precipice and pulls the toy from her body, whimpering at the loss just as she did when Peeta halted his motions. Then wailing in delight as she uses it to circle her clit. Real memories overpower old fantasies as she bites her lips and arches into the vibrations, plunging her fingers inside herself as she crests with his name on her lips.

 

As she lays there after she’s cleaned up, still floating towards dreams on euphoria, Katniss smiles to herself, her brief worries from earlier dissipating, seemingly inconsequential as confidence grows unnourished in her. It’s Peeta, after all. No one could destroy what they have. No one.

 

************

 

“Any big plans for Valentine’s Day?” Rue asks as they’re straightening their desks and shutting down their computers.

 

“Does cooking dinner and drinking wine with myself count?” Katniss asks. Rue laughs and nudges Katniss with her elbow.

 

“Sounds about like my plans. We should go out and do something.”

 

Katniss wavers at the offer. On the one hand, she’s spent the majority of her nights alone since Peeta came to visit her. Okay, every night since then. And that was two weeks ago. Her apartment is beginning to feel more like a cave than a home, and she doesn’t like that. Then again, she works with Rue. Unsure how to mix a professional relationship with a friendship, Katniss worries that she might mess this up and make it difficult to work with Rue. It’s not a specific fear, since she has no idea exactly how she’d accomplish that kind of a blunder, but it hovers on the edge of her reasoning.

 

“Please,” Rue says, clapping her hands together and tilting her head. Her brown eyes plead with Katniss and she caves.

 

“Okay,” Katniss says and Rue dances a little in her chair.

 

“I know just the place,” Rue says excitedly and motions towards Katniss’ work attire. “You might wanna change into something more casual, though.”

 

With the address to the bar in hand, Katniss leaves work, her phone ringing as she crosses the lot towards her car. She smiles and answers.

 

“Hey, Peeta,” she says.

 

“Hey! What are you up to this fine evening?”

 

“Not much,” she says. “I’m going out for drinks with a friend from work later.”

 

“Oh yeah? Is it Haymitch? He sounds like he’d be a fun drinking partner.”

 

“No,” she laughs. “It’s Rue. I think I told you about her.”

 

“Oh yeah,” he says and the signal cuts out for a second.

 

“What about you?” Katniss asks when the static dies out a little.

 

“Getting caught up,” he says wryly. “I had to cover Marvel’s shifts at work this week. He called in with mono.”

 

“Ugh,” Katniss says and wrinkles her nose.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight, Katniss.”

 

His voice is soft and fond, and she sinks into the driver’s seat. Almost wishing she weren’t going out tonight but spending it curled on a couch and watching a movie with Peeta.

 

After they hang up, she heads home and stands in front of her closet, debating what to wear. She hated doing this at school, too. The eternal problem of how to dress casually enough for Rue to be comfortable around her but not so casually to encourage unwanted flirting. In the end, she settles for jeans and a tank top with a loose sage green sweater that hangs off one shoulder. She leaves her hair pulled back in it’s fishtail braid and smears on some lipgloss before snapping a pic and sending it to Prim and Madge with the question.

 

_KATNISS: Okay for a night out with a friend from work?_

 

A few seconds later, an answer comes back from Madge.

 

**_MADGE: Male or female friend? ;-)_ **

 

Katniss rolls her eyes and quickly describes Rue and their relationship. She’s not looking for a hook-up tonight.

 

**PRIM: What shoes are you wearing?**

 

Prim chimes in with the angel emoji. Katniss knows from experience that this is Prim’s discreet way of asking Katniss what her plans really are for the night. She’ll never forget the night Prim came to visit her at school and explained that she was wearing four inch heels to the club because she fully intended to find a hot college stud to bang her against a wall. Katniss had choked on the air and nearly cancelled their plans to go out, but Johanna had unfortunately encouraged her then nineteen year old sister. Katniss had been over-ruled and they’d gone out to the club. Thankfully, Prim had changed her mind, deciding none of the candidates available seemed worthy of her first one-night-stand.

 

_KATNISS: Ballet flats_

 

**_MADGE: On Valentine’s Day?!?! You should seriously consider the heels, Kat. You need to get laid. How long’s it been?_ **

 

Madge answers and Katniss’ whole body flushes. Her heart pounds in her chest until Prim sends another text, but this one is thankfully separate from the thread. Just between her and Prim.

 

**PRIM: I’m guessing Madge doesn’t know about Peeta… Speaking of which, when was the last time your boy-toy serviced you? :-p**

 

Indignation makes her bold as she sends answers back to Prim in a rapid stream.

 

_KATNISS: I never told her._

_KATNISS: I’m guessing Peeta never did either._

_KATNISS: But I thought Jo knew so I don’t know for sure_

_KATNISS: And it’s none of your business!_

_KATNISS: AND HE IS NOT MY BOY TOY!_

 

**PRIM: Hang on, I’m gonna need some popcorn for this drama…**

 

Katniss groans and flops onto her bed. This is why she hates girl talk. Her phone chimes again and she checks the new message. Prim has finally weighed in on the group message. And her opinion spurs a rapid string of texts that occur so fast, Katniss nearly loses track of who says what and her confidence is left in tatters.

 

**PRIM: You seemed real stressed the last time we talked. I concur with Madge. Fuck-me heels are needed tonight.**

 

**_MADGE: Along with the fucking._ **

 

_KATNISS: I hate you both. I’m wearing flats._

 

**_MADGE: Jo wants to know if you’ve been utilizing her graduation present._ **

 

**PRIM: What present?**

 

_KATNISS: NOTHING!!!_

 

**_MADGE: It should totally help you through any dry spells._ **

 

**PRIM: She got you a vibrator, didn’t she?**

 

_KATNISS: I am not discussing this with you._

 

**_MADGE: Yes, she did. Do you have the heels on, Katniss?_ **

 

_KATNISS: Yes_

 

**PRIM: Liar liar pants on fire.**

 

As Katniss gnashes her teeth, Prim switches back to the private thread.

 

**PRIM: Seriously, though. Go out and have a good time, and maybe bring a sweet something home with you.**

 

_KATNISS: I’m not doing that, Prim_

 

**PRIM: Why not?**

 

_KATNISS: It feels wrong_

 

**PRIM: Is he seeing other people?**

 

_KATNISS: I don’t know._

 

**PRIM: He probably is, Katniss. Why else suggest the no strings or no demands whatever it is arrangement?**

 

With a deep breath, Katniss types the words in to explain to her sister, ignoring the chimes that mean someone has added to the group message.

 

_KATNISS: He told me he’s in love with me._

 

**PRIM: Holy shit. WHEN?!?!**

 

After Katniss tells her, she switches back to the group.

 

**_MADGE: Gale says I’m being a bitch. That you should wear whatever shoes you want. He also doesn’t understand what the difference is in which shoes you wear._ **

 

Her heart plummets and she wonders if everyone is discussing her private life behind her back. She briefly thinks about asking what Peeta thinks but instead decides on something more neutral.

 

_KATNISS: What did you do, poll the whole house?!?!_

 

**_MADGE: Well, as many as I could. Delly’s out with a new guy. She and Thresh broke up. Thresh says flats for comfort. You know Jo thinks you should always wear fuck-me heels, just in case. The new girl, Jackie, doesn’t even know you. Finnick’s upstairs with Annie and I do not wanna walk in on that. And Peeta vanished again. No idea where he is._ **

 

Katniss stares at the last part. Her whole body going numb.

 

**_MADGE: I think he’s seeing someone. Might be serious. Jo knows what’s going on with him, but she’s not talking._ **

 

The room spins around her. Her phone chimes again. Just Prim this time.

 

**PRIM: Wear the heels, Katniss.**

 

No. She refuses to automatically see the worst in Peeta. Even if Madge’s words do imply that he’s been dating someone else. Besides, he once claimed everyone in the house knew how he feels about her.

 

_KATNISS: It might be me she’s talking about. She could be suspicious and looking for confirmation._

 

**PRIM: Is he coming to see you tonight?**

 

_KATNISS: No. He said he needed to get caught up on some school work. He’s been working extra shifts lately and fell a little behind._

 

**PRIM: Uh-huh. Wear the heels.**

 

She wants to scream. Prim doesn’t know Peeta _that_ well. She doesn’t know how steadfast and _good_ he is.

 

_KATNISS: He’s not like that, Prim. There’s got to be an explanation._

 

**PRIM: For a hot, twenty-five year old, straight male disappearing on Valentine’s Day? Yeah, there’s an explanation alright.**

 

_KATNISS: I have to go. I’ll talk to you later._

 

**PRIM: Just be careful, Katniss. I love you and I want you to be happy.**

 

Wrapping up her conversations, Katniss pulls on the flats, and stubbornly leaves her apartment with her chin held high. When she reaches the bar, Rue waves at her from across the room, her motions so wide and animated that Katniss can’t help but smile, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

 

“HEY!” Rue yells over the din. “I wasn’t sure what you were drinking, but I’m good pals with the bartender so we should be able to get service pretty fast.”

 

She links her arm with Katniss’ and sashays towards the bar, hips swaying to the beat of the song playing over the speakers.

 

“Darius!” Rue calls out and leans on the bar with her arms crossed. A lanky red-head a few feet down the bar turns their way to wave. He’s dressed in jeans and white button down with the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone, a black vest on top of it. “He’ll be right over. I’m so glad you came out with me tonight.”

 

“Yeah,” Katniss says, forcing a smile. Her thoughts overlapping and colliding and leaving her tense. She wanted to relax tonight, but everything that’s happened in the last hour has only served to wind her up, tighter than a top. Rue eyes her and seems to know. Katniss despises being such an open book.

 

“Okay, so here’s the rule,” Rue says. “Talking work sucks, but sometimes you just gotta vent. So we talk shop while we’re working on our first drink, but once that’s gone, no more work talk, agreed?”

 

“Agreed,” Katniss says with a wide smile and finally takes in her surroundings. It’s just a regular bar, nothing too special, although the atmosphere is cheerful. There’s a table and a stage set up in the corner for karaoke. Mixed company fill the space with chatter, laughter, and the warmth of a crowd. She leans on the bar, glad for the first time that she came.

 

“Hey, Rue,” a cheerful voice greets. “What’ll it be tonight?”  

 

Darius the bartender dances a little as he arrives in front of them to take their order. He’s tall and lanky, his ginger red hair gelled and tousled and his green eyes sparkling with laughter. His rich, tawny skin peppered with darker freckles.

 

“And who’s your friend?” he asks, flashing a wide smile at Katniss as his eyes rake over her face. She blushes unexpectedly.

 

“This is Katniss. I work with her, Darius, so please don’t traumatize her,” Rue teases. “I’ll have an Amaretto sour.”

 

“Fancy fancy,” Darius says, his eyes never leaving Katniss. “And for you?”

 

“I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”

 

“Hard liquor girl. Just my style,” he winks at her as his hands move behind the bar, preparing their drinks for them. “So why’re you hanging out with this pipsqueak on Lover’s Day?”

 

“Darius, don’t steal my friend away from me,” Rue says over the noise as he hands her her drink. “This is a _girls’_ night out!”

 

“Ruining my fun, Rue,” he mock complains and grins at Katniss. “Seriously, though, doll. What’s a guy gotta do to get your number?”

 

“Not calling me ‘doll’ would be a good start,” Katniss retorts.

 

“Fair enough,” he says and hands over her drink. “Open a tab for you ladies?”

 

“Yes!” Rue says. “What time does karaoke start?”

 

“Ya had to bring that up,” Darius moans. “Glimmer’s here tonight.”

 

“Glimmer?” Katniss asks, wondering at the name as Rue groans loudly. Who the hell names their kid something like Glimmer?

 

“She’s here every night we have karaoke,” Darius says.

 

“Can’t sing worth a dime,” Rue says, swirling her fruit spear in her drink.

 

“But she’s got great tits,” Darius says with a wistful look on his face.

 

“So you cover your ears and enjoy the view, huh?” Katniss asks.

 

Darius shrugs and his gaze drops to her chest. His lips tug up in a smile before he looks at her face again.

 

“With her, sure. But I’d love to hear _you_ sing.”

 

“Darius!” Rue shouts again. “We have stuff to talk about!”

 

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave. I’ll be back later to get your non-work-talk refills,” he says and shifts down the bar to help another customer.

 

“I take it you come here often,” Katniss says and Rue smiles shyly.

 

“This was the first place I really felt like I was getting to know people, fitting in. I grew up in this tiny little farm town in Iowa, so the big city was a little scary at first. Darius and a few others made me feel welcome.”

 

“Yeah,” Katniss says. “I can understand that.”

 

The night flies by as Rue and Katniss spend their first drink venting about Haymitch and work and their latest project working with a woman named Coin whose got the entire office in an uproar.

 

“She’s terrifying!” Rue says as Darius sidles up and asks if they want the same drinks again before prepping them.

 

Pleasantly buzzed, Katniss bites her lip as they call the work talk done and shift to something else. She asks Rue about her tiny farm town and that leads to them swapping stories about the differences and similarities in the places they grew up. The difference between sneaking out to meet a beau in a cornfield versus next to a slag heap in a mining town, like the one where Katniss grew up. The pranks born of boredom. Mangy cats you keep around because they’re good mousers. The power of music to fill the empty, silent hours. By the time they finish their third drinks, a couple hours have passed, filled with laughter and cheers for the people brave enough to sing in front of strangers.

 

Katniss has long since forgotten the troubles of her night until Glimmer steps to the mike and butchers Katy Perry’s _The One That Got Away_. Darius and Rue are right. She’s stunningly gorgeous and pretty much the epitome of sexy. Her plump breasts nearly spill over out of her low cut dress, and she graces the audience with a carnal smile. But her voice is so far off key, Katniss thinks there might be wolves in Canada howling in pain at the atrocity.

 

But that’s not what upsets Katniss. It’s the song itself. At first, she thinks it’s because Peeta told  her it was a Katy Perry karaoke song that made him fall for her at first. But that’s not it entirely either. It’s him.

 

The lyrics don’t even fit. She didn’t know Peeta until college, and he grew up here. If the lyrics should fit anyone, it should be Gale. But for some reason, that underlying feeling of regret and of missing out on something incredible automatically latches onto her thoughts of Peeta.

 

“Uh-oh,” Rue says, her brown cheeks stained with a dark flush, her eyes bright with the alcohol. “That’s a boy-trouble look.”

 

“It’s not,” Katniss protests. She’s had enough hashing out whatever this fling is with Peeta for one night.

 

“Oh it is,” Darius says, presenting them with the glasses of water they asked for this time. “Trust me, I know. I’m a bartender. You need a rebound, Katniss?”

 

Rue flings a pretzel at him and he grins.

 

“I’m just saying, I’m a good listener so I make a great rebound. It’s the bartender thing,” he says, bracing his arms on the bar to smile seductively at Katniss. Her body warms. She tells herself it’s the alcohol, or a natural response to having an attractive man flirt with her. Because she has to admit, Darius is cute.

 

“Oh please stop,” Rue says.

 

“I’m serious. Just ask her,” Darius says and points across the bar. Katniss turns to look at the brunette he’s pointing out. “I’m so good, that lady sought me out for a second rebound session.”

 

They both laugh and Katniss hides her blushing smile behind her water. It feels strangely nice to have someone else pay this kind of attention to her. To seek her out and treat her as though she’s desireable. It helps soothe the sting at the thought that Peeta might be off romancing someone else, although she still doesn’t believe that. Not entirely. Prim has to be wrong about it. Peeta wouldn’t tell her he’s been in love with her for years and then waltz out to screw the nearest skirt. Especially not when they’re...and that’s where she hits the wall again.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Rue nudges her and Katniss looks over at her new friend. She’s never met Peeta, so her’s might be the closest to an unbiased opinion Katniss can get. Suddenly, she finds that she wants to talk to Rue about it. So she does. Spills the whole sordid tale over their glasses of water, letting the tangled thoughts out as the alcohol works its way out of her system.

 

When she’s done, she takes a deep gulp to finish off her second water and slams the glass down on the bar.

 

“That is a mess” Rue says. “Do you trust him?”

 

“Yes,” Katniss says without a pause. Rue smiles softly at her.

 

“Well, I don’t know anything about your Peeta, but I do know you. And I think that he’d have to be stupid to hurt you.”

 

Katniss smiles, the gesture weak. Everyone keeps telling her or worrying that Peeta’s going to hurt her. Despite her anxiety over their relationship, that view doesn’t quite fit her fears. She wishes someone could understand. Her eyes flicker up and meet Darius’.

 

“Think about the offer,” he hands over a napkin with a phone number on it. “You’d be my first I’m-not-sure-what-this-relationship-is-so-I’m-having-hot-sex-with-another-hot-guy-while-I-can, but I’m willing and ready to try it out.”

 

She laughs and pockets the napkin as Rue yawns. Shortly after, they head out into the night to catch the shared car Darius calls for them. It drops Rue off first and then turns towards Katniss’ apartment. Silence and time are both sobering and soothing.

 

Climbing from the car, Katniss checks her phone as she walks upstairs to her apartment. Nothing. Not even a text message from Peeta. A sour feeling curls itself inside of her as she thinks about what she and Prim talked about a few weeks ago and again tonight. The thought once more intruding that Peeta could be spending his night out, or worse, spending his night in, with another woman.

 

She doesn’t want that thought in her brain right now because she had so much fun with Rue. Enough so that as she walks the length of her hallway, she’s actually looking forward to her pajamas and her bed. The night out with a friend working wonders to make her feel as though she’s finally finding a place here in this city, which makes her apartment more like a home. The way it did after Peeta visited. She doesn’t want to ruin that with confused thoughts or intrusive jealousy. But she thought he’d send her a _Happy Valentine’s Day!_ message, despite their no demands agreement. Or at the least something corny to make her laugh, like the kissing face emoji. Anything other than silence.

 

With a sigh, she tucks her phone in her purse, exchanging it for her keys as she rounds the corner. Her steps falter and her lips turn up automatically as she sees him. Small duffle bag tucked into his side, sitting against her front door with his head lolling at an odd angle, mouth hanging open as he sleeps.

 

She feels awful, for doubting him, for being hurt. For briefly considering Darius’s offer. Now she’s infinitely glad that she didn’t. Peeta said he was going to stay at school this weekend to get some work done, but here he is, sleeping in her hallway with the dark circles of fitful nights marring the skin under his eyes.

 

“Peeta,” she whispers, shaking his shoulder until his body jerks awake and his eyes fly open, momentarily confused until they land on her. Then he smiles, so sweet and shy, her heart stutters for a second.

 

“Hey,” he says groggily and slowly staggers to his feet.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asks, the question settling harshly between them.

 

“Oh,” he says, disappointment dimming his smile. “I wanted to surprise you, I guess.”

 

“How long have you been sitting out here? And why didn’t you say anything when we talked earlier? I would’ve come home sooner.”

 

“Um,” he checks his watch and then messes up his hair. “Doesn’t matter how long. And I didn’t say anything because I’d already started driving but didn’t want to get in the way of your plans with Rue.”

 

Katniss closes her eyes, somehow knowing that he’s avoiding giving her a time because he’s been sitting out here awhile.

 

“I can stay at my parents’ place instead if this isn’t okay,” he says and she opens her eyes to look at him. Really look. His voice sounds calm, unaffected, His facial expression matches. As though it doesn’t matter to him one way or another. But as she watches him, he shuffles his feet a little and tugs on his ear, eyes holding hers. Then there’s a flicker of uncertainty in them.

 

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” she asks, the sweetness of what he’s done settling in her middle. She steps towards the door and he moves aside so she can unlock it.

 

“Because I didn’t ask if you wanted me here tonight,” Peeta says quietly. Katniss opens the door and looks over her shoulder at him. He just assumed he would be welcome. He assumed correctly.

 

Stepping through her door, Katniss turns and watches him squirm for a second before smiling and waving him inside. He picks up his bag and enters hesitantly. As soon as she shuts the door, Katniss flings her purse and keys aside and pounces. They fall back against the door, rattling it on its hinges and Peeta drops his bag to the floor with a dull thud as their lips collide in a frenzy and his hands cup her face. She reaches around him to lock the door as his fingers rake through her hair, destroying her careful braid. Katniss grips his coat and pulls him further into the apartment. They leave a trail of clothes from the door to the living room. Two coats. A sage green sweater. Two pairs of shoes. A soft grey Henley shirt Katniss plans on stealing later to sleep in.

 

Once her jeans join the trail, Peeta whirls her around and pulls her tight against his bare chest. His hands roam over her body, frantically reacquainting themselves with her contours while his lips caress and teeth sink into heated flesh. He scatters her thoughts with his desperate touches, leaving her hands hanging uselessly in the air. His right hand slides up under her tank top and bra, heated palm latching onto her breast, fingers plucking and petting. Her hips gyrate back into his erection, her hands finally flying up to anchor themselves in his hair and hold his mouth to her neck.

 

Around them, the air grows heavy with labored breaths and anticipation as his left hand skims down lower, winding its way inside her panties. Katniss groans as he draws closer to her folds, her lips already throbbing and dripping with need for his touch.

 

“Fuck, Katniss,” Peeta murmurs, the curse somehow reverent on his lips as his fingers bathe in her arousal.

 

“Still think you’re not wanted?” she says and then keens loudly as he starts stroking her, his movements firm and confident. Her hips roll with his hand and words become impossible, replaced with broken snatches of his name and pleas for more. Deeper. Even Peeta doesn’t try to speak, his rapid, hot breaths on her neck and the thickening bulge against her ass the only clues as to what this is doing to him.

 

He works her over until she’s wailing to the ceiling, her entire being clenched and ready to pitch over the edge. Then his hand leaves her and she nearly screeches in denial. But Peeta yanks down on her panties, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Before Katniss can complain about her denied release, Peeta has discarded her panties across the room, settled her on her back, and buried his head between her legs.

 

“I need to taste you now or I may die,” he says, his mouth resuming where his fingers left off. Her body bows towards his and she grasps onto the threads of her need. She starts chanting his name in a whining plea as fingers and mouth drive her in tandem straight upwards so fast she sees stars as she convulses against him.

 

She begins to relax into the afterglow, anticipating the cessation of his caresses, but Peeta doesn’t stop. Her innards clench painfully.

 

“Peeta,” she whines, her hands trying to move him away from the foreign sensations.

 

“Not long enough,” he moans. “Need more of your taste.”

 

Seconds later, her legs clamp around him as fire races through her blood, making everything from scalp to navel to toes burn as she screams. “Oh _fuck!_ ” right before her release escapes her in a rush that Peeta licks up with unabashed enthusiasm, his moans sending aftershocks through her demolished nerves.

 

When he finally stops his tongue’s torment, she stares at him, chest heaving in an attempt to breathe normally. He still looks tired, but also inordinately pleased with himself. Her legs feel useless, but she refuses to let him keep that smirk on his face.

 

Katniss awkwardly maneuvers them until he’s sitting with her straddling him, her hands tearing at his jeans as he chuckles, hands caressing her hips.

 

“Insatiable,” he murmurs as he drops his hands to the floor so he can lift his hips and she can pull down his jeans and boxers. She gives up when they’re down around his ankles, deciding that’s far enough because she doesn’t have time to waste.

 

“No,” she says, hearing the lie in her own voice as she flings off her tank top and bra. He grins at her. “Just want you to know that two can play this game.”

 

“You mean the one where I’m so fucking hard for you all the time that I have to stop in between classes to jerk off just so I don’t walk around with a bulge in my jeans and hope no one in the bathroom can hear me?” he asks and she gapes at him before grabbing him. But she pauses as his head drops back and he groans deep in his chest.

 

With the thrill of control, she squeezes and pumps him as hard as she dares. Peeta’s hips lift into her touch and he makes several desperate noises in his throat.

 

“Fuck, Katniss,” he says with a heavy swallow. She watches fascinated as his adam’s apple bobs. “Or do you mean the game where I wake up fucking my mattress because I was dreaming of you and then have to debate with myself over whether or not I should just take care of it or call you in the middle of the night and talk dirty to you so I can hear you come right before I let myself go too.”

 

He’s doing far too much talking and not enough moaning, so she licks up the length of his throat and sucks on his earlobe.

 

“I was talking about the game where you make me want you until I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything until you’ve driven me so far over the edge that I’m a useless puddle. And then all I want is to do the same to you.”

 

She drags the tip of him through her folds, swirling her hips just enough to tease him as his hips try to chase after her until his entire body is quivering beneath her.

 

“I need you so fucking bad right now, Katniss, god please. Just ride me already,” he begs. “I promise I’ll be a useless puddle after.”

 

She sinks slowly onto him as his hands clutch at her, and she gives him what he wants. Slow rolls of hips that make him bite his lip and knead her ass impatiently. Rapid plunges over him that make him yell and then whimper when she stops. Measured jerks as she leans back with her hands on his thighs, drawing whispered curses from his lips as he trails his fingers from her neck down to cup her breast, making her shiver as he tugs the turgid nipple between his teeth and flutters his tongue over the tip in a way that makes her echo his moans. Sensual rotations when her limbs grow tired, allowing them the chance to kiss and caress, to heighten the need until she returns to rolling motions that rub her clit into him and make them both pant into the night.

 

While their hands and bodies never cease their movement, their eyes rarely stray from their shared gaze. A lone shaft of light from the street lamp outside slants through her pulled up blinds and across their faces, providing the only illumination in the room. It’s enough for her to see the deepening of the blue in his irises. The flickers of desire, contentment, and desperation each in turns.

 

They forget time and distance, holidays and February chills as they move together, building towards the end and then letting it drift away, again and again. Drawing it out, smoldering between them, until Katniss can no longer stand to withhold her peak from herself. They become a frantic mess of sweat soaked limbs, desperate pleas, and writhing hips. It bursts over her in unending flashes of blue flames, her body shuddering with the strength of them. She mindlessly claws at his back and pulls on his hair, smashing her lips to his to quiet the torrid noises she makes.

 

She’s still clenching around his cock, still coming as he flips them over and drives into her, an ardent shriek from another peak reverberating between their joined mouths, twining with his guttural moan as he slams into her and stops moving. The lay there on the carpet with her knees spread and limp, her hands still caught in his hair, his hips pressing hers into the floor. Pulsing and clenching as chests mash together to the beat of thudding hearts and ravenous gulps, lips parting to make breathing possible again. His arms tremble beside her with the effort of holding himself off of her, his eyes closed.

 

“Fuck,” he whimpers. “I think you won.”

 

“How do you figure that?” she asks in between pants.

 

“I can’t feel my toes.”

 

A languid smile stretches over her lips as she toys with his hair. She voices something he said to her last week.

 

“I guess it depends on how you define losing.”

 

Peeta releases a content sigh and rolls them over so she’s sprawling on top of him. He kicks his pants from off of his ankles and then both of them go limp, lay there caressing one another as the air slowly cools their fevered skin. She jolts back away from him when she remembers that they’re in the middle of her furnitureless living room.

 

“We didn’t even make it to the bed. Again,” she groans. Peeta laughs and shifts precariously beneath her, trying to stand without releasing her.

 

“It’s just that fucking good,” he whispers to her and wobbles as he gains his feet. Katniss wraps her legs around him and clings to him, smiling at the memory of how he did this after the pool table, too. Peeta stumbles in a zigzag line, but his arms are steady around her waist. She bursts out laughing as they crash into the doorway and Peeta huffs in annoyance at himself. He pauses and looks around at the room they put together a few weeks ago.

 

“Something wrong?” she asks, eager to get into the bathroom and deal with the colossal mess they made.

 

“No,” he says, kissing her cheek. “I just enjoy being here with you. It’s...comforting.”

 

Katniss smiles and returns the kiss, grateful when he starts moving again and takes her straight to her bathroom, giving her a moment of privacy to catch her breath and subdue the strange pang of longing that took hold of her heart when Peeta spoke of her place as though it’s his place, too.

 

She sleeps deep that night, curled in the steady warmth of Peeta’s arms. The chime of her phone in the early morning hours wakes her up, and she reaches towards it with a scowl on her face.

 

**PRIM: How was your night?**

 

With a gleeful grin, Katniss rolls over and looks at Peeta, bathed in the glow of dawn, fast asleep in her bed. Some color has returned to his skin; the circles under his eyes are not as noticeable. She’ll let him sleep as long as he needs, but first she wants to shut her sister up.

 

Carefully positioning the phone to capture his face and just a hint of bare torso, she clicks and sends it with a caption.

 

_KATNISS: You were right. There was an explanation. And my night was both surprising and amazing._

 

Then she switches her phone to silent and puts it face down on her nightstand. Shimmies back into Peeta’s embrace with a happy sigh, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and his heartbeat against her ear lull her back to sweet slumber.


	5. Corner Hooked

She’s lost track of the plot, and really, she doesn’t care. Her laptop sits perched on Peeta’s outstretched legs. They’re curled up on her bed, propped up on pillows with one of his arms wrapped around her. Katniss burrows closer into his side as his fingers lace and unlace themselves with hers. She’s spent the past twenty minutes or perhaps longer paying more attention to the miniscule details about him than she has to the movie.

 

Her phone remains turned face down and silent on the nightstand. After sleeping in with Peeta, they spent the rest of the morning relaxing and then eating breakfast in bed. It felt indulgent, wonderfully peaceful, and the feeling continued as she sat with her head in his lap, reading her book as he did some work on the assignments that almost kept him away at school. When he needed a break, she’d suggested a movie.

 

They’d browsed their options and finally agreed on an action flick neither of them had seen before. True to form, the movie was cheesy and riddled with flaws, if the premise itself was somewhat terrifying. But there was one scene that had finally caught her attention, awoken true feelings in her, and made the blow-everything-up ending seem even more trite than normal. 

 

“You wanna get out and do something?” Peeta asks as the credits roll.

 

“Not really,” she says, craning her head back to look at him. It’s an awkward, unflattering angle but Katniss now has other plans. The scene when Scarlett Johansson and Ewan McGregor’s characters first discover kissing, which then led to other things, had stirred her more than anything else in the movie.

 

Setting aside her laptop, she clambers over Peeta’s reclining form and kisses him deeply, pushing her tongue past his lips as his fingers rest lightly on her ribs. He makes a few futile attempts at talking, eventually giving up and returning her kisses. As she slides her way down his body, kissing him over his clothes, headed straight for his swelling erection, he remains silent, watching her. Only saying one more thing as she flicks her tongue out to swirl around his head.

 

“That tongue thing is amazing,” he teases, his voice strained and making her snort at his use of the movie line.

 

“Shut up,” she answers, and he does, only managing wordless moans that eventually border on hiccoughs. At least until they’re sprawled on the bed, arms akimbo and wearing matching smiles of satisfaction, their clothes scattered over the floor.

 

“I’m serious, Katniss. We should go out some. Get you more familiarized with the city,” he says, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare legs.

 

“What makes you think I haven’t?” she asks. “I’ve gotten out. I’m not a hermit.”

 

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says and kisses away the sting of the words, letting her know he didn’t mean it as an insult. “I’m guessing last night was your first real night out on the town. Come on, I’ll take you to one of my favorite places here.”

 

“Is there food involved?” she asks and Peeta grins, taking her hands in his to pull her off the bed.

 

“Of course there’s food involved,” he tickles her waist and she dances out of his reach to get dressed again.

 

They spend the drive to the place Peeta has picked out holding hands. Even as they eat, he doesn’t let go of her hand, and she doesn’t try to reclaim it. She likes the feeling of their entwined fingers, his palm pressed to hers or sheltering her entire hand. And each time he lifts her hand to his lips to leave tiny kisses on her knuckles, something warm flutters in her chest.

 

But once again, Sunday afternoon arrives too soon and finds Katniss kissing him, uncaring if they have an audience, as they stand next to his car, his bag already in the trunk and the door open, waiting for him to climb in and drive away.

 

She tugs frantically on his hair, trying to pour everything she hasn’t figured out or can’t say just yet into his lips, a gossamer promise for him to carry with him. When he finally pulls away from her, gasping, his lips swollen and eyes disoriented, he curses softly and holds her face delicately turned up to his.

 

“What’s gotten into you?” he asks breathlessly. She tries to shrug it away.

 

“Just giving you something to remember me by before you go back to the giant orgy known as college,” she tries for a teasing tone. 

 

“Giant orgy?” he says with a smile. “Did we go to the same school? Because I’ve completely missed these orgies you speak of. Do tell where I can find one.”

 

“Stop,” she says, her cheeks heating. “You know what I’m talking about.”

 

Peeta laughs and kisses the tip of her nose and then both her cheeks.

 

“I think maybe I do,” he whispers and brushes his lips softly over hers before tucking his face against her neck. They cling to one another, neither willing to let go first. Eventually, Peeta inhales deeply, the sound final in the chilled air. With one last short kiss, they move apart and he gives her a weak but somehow hopeful smile as he climbs into his car and drives back towards school.

 

What she wants more than anything is to crawl into a hole and hide, but Peeta’s admonishment that she should get out more twists together with her time spent with Rue in her mind. At school, she had an entire houseful of pushy friends constantly dragging her out of the door, even when she didn’t want to. At the time, she’d often thought it was exhausting, but now that there’s no one to really invite or drag her along, she has to force herself out into the world. Which is even more exhausting.

 

Over the next few weeks, she finds herself venturing out more often, though. Nights at the movie theater or at a play with Rue, a wandering walk that leads to her discovering a coffee place that serves the most decadent hot chocolate ever and quickly becomes one of her favorite places to go. When she comes home one afternoon to find a girl lugging boxes into the empty apartment across the hall, Katniss swallows her aversion to socializing and offers to help. In a matter of days, Leevy’s relaxed personality wins her over and Katniss begins to join her for the occasional morning run. She figures that makes Leevy count as a new friend.

 

Tired of eating standing up at the kitchen counter or soiling her bed with crumbs, she braves the furniture store and the exuberant Effie Trinket to purchase a table and chairs for the small eating nook that adjoins her kitchen, even managing to find placemats and a few cheap prints to hang on the walls, giving the space new life.

 

Prim visits twice, thankfully not prying too much into Katniss’ time spent with Peeta, and even brings their mother with her on her second visit. With mixed emotions on the matter, Katniss makes it through the weekend without her temper flaring. She really hasn’t seen her mother in a while, and although Amanda Everdeen did finally pull things together, there was a time after her husband's death when she left her girls to fend for themselves. And Katniss has never fully forgiven her for that. Still, it seems important to Prim, so Katniss accepts her mother’s presence as part of building her new life.

 

Katniss even returns to the place where she and Peeta had played pool while they waited for her furniture to arrive. After a few rounds with some of the patrons, the owner of the place, Chaff, starts hanging around her table, throwing shade at each of the people she beats. After several more visits, he lays out a bet, promising to pay for her games until someone beats her. So far, she hasn’t had to pony up any table fees. Katniss also learns that he’s a veteran and lost his arm in combat, although anytime someone asks what happened, he winks and says he can’t tell or he’ll have to kill them.

 

And just as Rue had described, Katniss slowly carves a place for herself out of the bustling landscape of the city, begins to no longer feel anonymous in the crowds.

 

As for Peeta, he begins to visit with more regularity. When he’s not there with her, they talk or text as often as possible, even if it’s just a few words at the end of the day before they fall asleep. And at least once during their time together, he takes her someplace new in town -- an art museum, a park, a restaurant, even the more touristy attractions -- weaving the life of Lousiville seamlessly into the fabric of hers, making it her home. Mostly, though, they fill the hours with small moments of intimacy. They sleep, cuddle, and talk quietly. She reads while he works on assignments. Or they completely lose themselves to the rest of the world as their bodies and hearts move in sync. 

 

It’s in mid March, when Katniss ventures to a diner, spurred forth by a craving for a milkshake, that she runs into the flirty bartender from her first night out with Rue again.

 

“Hey! Katniss, right?” a bright voice asks as Katniss lowers her book and finds Darius sliding into the seat across from hers in the booth. “Rue’s friend.”

 

“Hello,” she says, at a loss as to how to handle this. 

 

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you like that,” Darius says with a leer. The waitress brings Katniss’ shake and asks if Darius would like anything. He orders a massive amount of food and then turns to Katniss. “You want anything else?”

 

She shakes her head and the waitress leaves them in awkward silence. Darius runs his hands over his thighs and then the top of the table as Katniss stares him down, trying to figure out his motivations. She hasn’t been back to his bar. And she threw away the napkin with his number on it after Peeta left that weekend.

 

“I’m guessing things worked out with Peter,” Darius says.

 

“Peeta. And so far, yes,” she corrects. Surprisingly, he smiles happily.

 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, making Katniss shake her head slightly in confusion. 

 

“Don’t tell anyone,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning slightly over the table towards her. “But I’m secretly a romantic at heart. Totally rooting for you two. But should things fall through, you know where to find me.”

 

“I, um, thank you?” she says and Darius laughs again.

 

“So I haven’t seen you back in my watering hole, Katniss. Tell me about your Louisville adventures to date.”

 

She falters at first, but talking to Darius is easy and fun. Like he said that night, he’s a good listener, and it isn’t long before they’re trading barbs over the table.

 

“How can you eat that garbage?” she asks, wrinkling her nose at his pickle smothered in cottage cheese. “What are you, seventeen?”

 

“I don’t know, but I’m basically always hungry,” he says with a smile before chomping into his weird food combination. His next words are mangled around the food in his mouth. “Want some?”

 

“Ugh, no thank you,” she says. “Even I have my standards where food is concerned.”

 

That leads to a talk about places to eat in Louisville and by the time Katniss heads out to go home for the night, they’ve swapped numbers, programming them in phones this time.

 

“In case of late night cravings and the need for a guide,” he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. She shoves him playfully off the curb and bids him goodnight before heading home. 

 

When Peeta’s Spring Break finally rolls around, Katniss eagerly waits in the hours between his  _ I’m on the road  _ text until he arrives on her doorstep. Her stomach plummets when she opens the door for him, though. He looks so haggard. The circles are back under his eyes and his cheeks slightly sunken. Even his clothes seem to hang a little loosely on him, like he’s not been eating enough, or stressing too much. It’s only been a little over a week since she saw him last, and she can’t remember if his health was this deteriorated then. Still, he embraces her the second he steps through the door, his lips seeking hers.

 

Overcome with worry for him, she’s not sure what to do, and barely returns the kiss. Peeta’s hands shake against her and he pulls back, eyes searching hers.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “You just look…”

 

“Exhausted?” he asks with an attempt at a smile.

 

“What’s been going on, Peeta?”

 

“School and work,” he says and drags his bags inside before shutting the door. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Got anything we can make or shall we order in tonight?”

 

“I already started something. It should be done soon,” she says as Peeta moves his bags to the bedroom.

 

“Great,” he says cheerfully.

 

Once dinner is eaten and the dishes cleared, they settle on her bed. Katniss mentions watching a movie, her fingers trailing suggestively over his middle, hoping he'll nix that idea and start kissing her soon. She's missed the feel of his skin sliding across hers, and after the stressful week she's had at work and her mother visiting the week prior, all she wants to do is to forget her problems in the sounds of Peeta's moans. The feel of his arms. But he yawns and his eyes droop.

 

“Yeah, movie sounds good,” he says. She tries to hide her irritation as she fires up her laptop and starts browsing her queue. The rasp of Peeta's snores stop her cold and she turns her head to find him fast asleep.

 

Sudden guilt fills her. For making him do all the driving, for laying all of the expectations at his feet just because of her disagreement with Gale. Katniss sighs and sets aside her laptop in favor of her book, laying her head on Peeta's shoulder while he sleeps. She stares at the page, pondering what she should do, how she can fix things with Gale so she can start reciprocating visits. With her head hurting and her eyes itching in tiredness, she slams her book shut and turns off the lights, clinging to Peeta's shirt in the dark, telling herself it's not that much longer until Peeta graduates. Then it won't matter if she's mended things with Gale because both of them will be starting their lives anew. Somewhere else, with no more need for her. She’s plagued with strange dreams of swirling fog that night.

 

In the still dark morning hours, Peeta's alarm sounds a soothing series of rippling notes. He shifts in the bed beside her, swinging his feet over the edge and stretching. With a groan, Katniss reaches out for him, but she’s only half awake and misses as he stands from the bed, silencing the alarm on his phone before his heavy tread carries him into her bathroom.

 

Rolling back over, Katniss glares at the clock on her nightstand telling her that it’s four in the morning. Her eyelids sag and although she fights to stay awake until Peeta reemerges, she must fall asleep again. It’s Peeta’s lips, warm and caressing hers, that wake her again. A soft sleepy sigh escapes her mouth into his as she runs her hands over his shoulders. With sure movements, his tongue sweeps inside her mouth, filling her with his taste and the bite of fresh toothpaste. It reminds her that she probably has stale morning breath, and embarrassed, Katniss turns her head away from him.

 

“Morning breath,” she murmurs in the darkness, hoping he can’t see her embarrassment.

 

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Peeta says, his hands holding him over her.

 

“That’s because we were both rank,” she murmurs, confused at the rough fabric of his shirt beneath her palms, the clean scent of his soap floating around them, and his obviously brushed teeth. “Where are you going?”

 

“I’m working today,” he says and her heart sinks. Since it’s Saturday, she’s  _ not  _ working today. It’s one of the few days during his break that she thought she’d have him all to herself.

 

“Oh,” she says.

 

“My shift ends at one this afternoon,” he murmurs, his nose nudging her back to face him so he can kiss her again. “And I don’t care about your nasty morning breath.”

 

His lips brush over hers again, demanding this time, and she clings to his shoulders, bunching the fabric of what must be his work polo in her fists. She kicks aside the covers and shifts so she can wrap her legs around him, her bare thighs meeting crisp cotton pants at first as she slides them from his hips up to his waist. Cool leather belt, waffled polo shirt. His tongue makes mush of her brain as she tightens the grip her legs have on him, pulling him down against her now aching core. His weight settles on her. She doesn’t want to let him go. Wants to pull him back into her bed so they can spend the morning in lazy pursuit of the other’s moans of delight. Sleeping with limbs embracing in between each climax before they wake and chase the next peak together.

 

Peeta moans as her hips rock upwards into him and he tears his mouth from hers.

 

“I have to go, Katniss,” he whispers, and she thinks she hears regret in his voice. “I’ll call you when I’m off work.”

 

“Okay,” she says, reluctantly releasing him and shivering with the chill as he leaves her apartment. Burrowing back under the covers, Katniss tries not to feel neglected or cheated. He did tell her he’d be working at the bakery over his break, but she thought she’d get to see more of him. He fell asleep so fast last night, and then he was gone so swiftly this morning.

 

Although she manages another hour or two of fitful sleep, she stares moodily into her pantry when she finally gets out of bed, glaring at all of her inadequate breakfast options and wishing Peeta were here so they could make pancakes together. Pancakes for one...too depressing to contemplate. What she really wants, though, is one of the gooey cinnamon rolls he used to make at school. Since that’s an overnight project, though, she won’t be getting any of those.

 

Unless…

 

It occurs to her that she’s been in Louisville since December and yet in those three months, she hasn’t once set foot in Peeta’s family bakery. She can’t even recall having ever met his parents. Did they come to visit him at school? She thinks maybe not. Which is even more depressing than pancakes for one. At least her mother had the excuse of a lack of funds to keep her from visiting Katniss at school.

 

Determined that she won’t let this day go to waste, but also nervous about just stopping by for a surprise visit since she has no idea what he’s told his family about her, if anything, Katniss phones in an ally. Rue answers in a sleepy drawl, but she wakes quickly when Katniss mentions carbs and coffee, agreeing to meet up with her for breakfast. The neighborhood that Mellark’s Bakery resides in is already bustling when they arrive, forcing them to park Katniss’ car a few blocks away and walk the rest of the distance. Katniss is actually grateful for the chance to breath in the fresh air and the brisk exercise. 

 

“So,” Rue says with a twinkle in her eye as she loops their arms together. “This is your man’s place we’re going to?”

 

“Well, it’s technically his parents’, but he and his brothers have worked here since they were really young,” Katniss explains then adds in a hasty breath. “I’ve never met any of his family and his mom is...strict.”

 

“No wonder you called in for back-up,” Rue says.

 

“Have you ever been here?” Katniss asks as a bright blue awning with silver script comes into view ahead of them.

 

“Nope,” Rue says, inhaling the yeasty scent that radiates from the brick facade. “But it smells divine.”

 

“Yeah,” Katniss says, her feet faltering as she glances in the window they pass on the way to the door. Rue stops and unthinking, Katniss does the same. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

 

Even through the window, Katniss can see that they’re busy. She’s just decided to turn around rather than subject herself to the relationship arena, when Rue jerks on her arm.

 

“Nope,” Rue states firmly. “You are not chickening out. Besides, you woke me up early on a Saturday morning and I’m starving.”

 

Together, they enter the bakery, and Rue moans something about the place smelling even more heavenly on the inside. Katniss’ eyes dart around trying to place Peeta in the context of the cool grey walls and industrial style lighting overhead. The minimalist tables with their gleaming chrome and plastic chairs. The entire colorless space reeks  _ modernist _ , and it doesn’t fit with Peeta’s warm personality. Soft fabrics, soothing tea, a cozy bed, vibrant colors. These are things she associates with Peeta. The contrast is jarring. Almost as jarring as Rue’s elbow in her side. 

 

“Is that him?” she whispers, pointing slightly towards the counter that stretches the length of the back wall. Between the patrons waiting in line, Katniss catches a glimpse of a stocky blond with his back to them, and Katniss shakes her head. The cut of his hair is all wrong, and as the man reaches out to catch a bagel from an up high basket with a set of tongs, his sleeve rides up his arm enough to reveal a barbed wire ring tattooed around his bicep.

 

“No,” she says, but the resemblance in his stocky build and even the shade of his hair is close enough that Katniss assumes, “Must be one of his brothers.”

 

“Whoa,” Rue says as the blond man turns and flashes a megawatt smile towards the customer at the register. “No wonder this place is so busy. Now if only the goods are as tasty as the bakers, this might be my new favorite place.”

 

Katniss snorts in laughter, drawing a scathing look from the man waiting in line in front of them. He rolls his eyes and returns to scrolling on his phone while Rue makes a face at his back.

 

It’s almost their turn when a door to the back rooms swings open and Peeta emerges with a large bread tray balanced on his shoulder. Katniss can’t help but stare at the way his shirt stretches over his arm muscles or the way the entire room seems brighter when he laughs at something shouted to him through the door before it swings closed behind him.

 

As Peeta turns to refill one of the cases, she elbows Rue again, nodding in Peeta’s direction. They engage in a pantomime conversation, as Rue’s jaw drops open and she points at Peeta, incredulous. Katniss grabs at her finger and nods her head. Peeta converses with a few of the customers perusing the displays before they join the line. By the time Katniss has gotten Rue to calm down, Peeta has once more retreated to the back rooms. He didn’t even notice her.

 

Fighting back her disappointment, she steps up to the register with Rue. Peeta’s brother gives them that bright smile, and although it sort of looks like Peeta’s, the effect is greatly diminished by the not so subtle or quick manner in which his eyes roam over their bodies and don’t focus on their eyes.

 

“What can I get you two ladies?” he asks in a way that suggests he’s on the menu, too. His confident smirk and the aggressive stance he assumes all scream,  _ Baby, I will love you anyway you want. Make you feel like a princess for a night or a week. _

 

But not any longer than that. This must be the middle Mellark, Ryen, the one Peeta always described to her as being the rebel rouser, prankster, and general lothario. But guys like that are too easy to get or maybe too easy to lose, in Katniss’ opinion.

 

“A cinnamon roll and a coffee,” Katniss answers tersely, and then waits with her eyes glued to the back door, willing Peeta to return as Rue places her order, telling Ryen that yes, they will be dining in today.

 

She barely notices the rest of the details of the conversation between Peeta’s brother and Rue as the door swings open once more only to send her heart plummeting in disappointment as a tall, willowy woman walks through. She’s dressed in one of the bakery’s bright blue polos, but somehow manages to make it appear designer made. Her golden blonde hair dressed up in an intricate twist with not a strand out of place. Diamonds in her ears and around her throat. Full pouty lips, high cheekbones, and ice blue eyes that lack any of the warmth or depth of Peeta’s, or even the flirtatious, sparkling life found in her other son’s. 

 

The woman’s eyes swing imperiously over the crowd and the line, and Katniss can’t help but think of a queen lording over her domain, deciding whose head will roll next. She hadn’t expected Peeta’s mother to reek beauty and elegance. Not after the things he told her. She’d been expecting a witch. Someone with the lines of her bitterness scratched into her skin. 

 

“You’re not being paid to flirt, Ryen,” she says tersely as her son snaps straight and hands Rue’s change back over the counter. He smiles again as he presents them with two plates, each with a fluffy, frosted cinnamon roll, but Katniss notices a slight dimming in his eyes. Subtle, but there.

 

While Ryen hurries to get their coffee ready, his mother finishes her circuit and disappears into the back. Accepting the mug from Ryen, Katniss bites her lip and then spills out the words.

 

“Could you tell Peeta that Katniss is here?”

 

Ryen’s eyes round out and he repeats the elevator assessment of her, his lips twitching as he examines her.

 

“Yeah, I’ll tell him, alright,” Ryen says as his eyes linger on her chest for a few seconds too long. 

 

Katniss flushes in indignation and turns on her heel, the hot beverage swaying dangerously close to the rim of its mug. When they select a table, Katniss purposely takes one of the chairs with her back facing the counter, not wanting to be too distracted to carry on a conversation with Rue.

 

She’s not sure what to think of this place. Not the cold, barren decor or the harsh way his mother publicly scolded Peeta’s brother. But Rue’s chatter about a concert she went to the night before and the familiar melting of the cinnamon roll on her tongue help her to relax. Soon, she’s laughing with Rue, the stress of this venture all but forgotten until Rue’s gaze settles on something over Katniss’ shoulder and she grins. Without looking, Katniss somehow knows it’s Peeta.

 

“Hey, this is a surprise,” Peeta says and she stands to greet him. She doesn’t care that he’s got flour dusted over his arms and a few smudges of frosting on his shirt. Katniss winds her arms around him. He hesitates just a second before returning the embrace, and with his arms a solid band around her, the world settles back on its axis where it belongs.

 

As she pulls back, he gives her an odd look. A look that tells her he knows something is wrong. Promises a talk about it later. But she quickly turns to make the introductions.

 

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Rue says with an elfish smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

“You too, Rue,” Peeta says as they shake hands, a blush staining his cheeks.

 

“Are you on break or do you have to get back?” Katniss asks.

 

“I don’t want to disturb you ladies,” he says sheepishly.

 

“We don’t mind!” Rue says and uses her foot to push out the chair next to Katniss’. “Sit down and enjoy your break.”

 

“Thanks,” he says and lowers himself into the chair Rue offered. After a few minutes of Rue asking Peeta all about the bakery and the two of them clearly striking up some kind of fledgling friendship, Rue picks up her mug and looks longingly at it.

 

“All out. I’ll go get us a refill, Katniss,” she says and snatches up the second mug. Peeta tries to offer to do it for her, but Rue insists on not making him work on his break. It’s only after she’s gone and Peeta’s staring at Katniss expectantly that she realizes Rue probably did that to give them a few minutes alone.

 

“I’m really glad to see you,” he starts when she doesn’t. “About last night and this morning...”

 

“It’s okay, Peeta,” she says with a shrug. “You were tired.”

 

“I know, and I’ve been wanting to talk to you about so many things,” he says, twisting their fingers together on top of the table. “But I don’t want to be half asleep when we do, and I’m probably gonna be done for a bit after my shift here.”

 

Katniss mentally kicks herself for not noticing sooner. For it being his words that finally draw her attention to how pinched his skin appears, the purple marks of exhaustion less prominent than they were yesterday but still present beneath his eyes. She ignores the pitch of her stomach at the other words. The ones about  _ talking _ about  _ things. _ That could mean any number of things, none of which she’s ready to contemplate.

 

“Well, how does an afternoon nap and then dinner sound?” she asks.

 

“Sounds wonderful,” he says, bringing her hand up to his lips to brush a kiss over her knuckles. Shortly after that, Rue returns with the fresh coffee and a gleam in her eyes. After Peeta has left them to return to work, she and Rue remain to talk and finish their beverages.

 

As they leave the bakery, Peeta waves at both of them over the line waiting to be served, and Rue nudges Katniss.

 

“Put a ring on that, Kat,” she mumbles, making Katniss blush furiously.

 

Whatever Peeta wanted to talk to her about, though, ends up waiting. He’s barely through the door and showered before they fall into her bed, the covers pulled up over them, Peeta’s body heat turning the space into a warm cocoon, his arms holding her close as they drift on dreams. When they wake, Katniss keeps finding things to distract them. Dinner. Dessert at a nearby ice cream parlor. Libidinous dessert that comes in the form of biting, licking, writhing, thrusting, and wanton moans, after which neither one of them has the energy to leave her bed, let alone talk. 

 

She’d much rather lay there with his fingers gliding over her skin, his lips pressed to the back of her neck as they catch their breath and lounge in the afterglow. Words would ruin the sensation of utter tranquility, the connection between them that defies even words to describe. At least for her. Maybe Peeta would be able to explain it, but Katniss can’t bring herself to speak and disturb the quietude just to ask him. Eventually, they fall back asleep, still naked and entwined.

 

Sunday dawns warm and sunny, the first mild day of spring. Unwilling to let it pass unappreciated, they pack a picnic lunch and a couple blankets into her car, escaping to a park on the outskirts of town for a picnic. Peeta sketches, Katniss reads. They feast on their lunch, walk barefoot in the grass. Since they brought far too much food for lunch, they stay through dinner, talking about staying for the sunset. Then they flee to the car when dark clouds move in and the skies open, releasing a gentle, fragrant rain over the city.

 

As they sit in her car, swiping rain from their smiling faces, Peeta catches her hand with his, claiming her attention. Their eyes lock as the rain pounds down on the car, and she’s lost in the swirls of blue in his irises. It’s a strange mixture of fear, longing, and determination, and she wonders if the expression is his or if she’s only seeing her own feelings reflected back at her. She thinks he’s going to open the discussion they’ve been putting off, so she’s caught off guard when he leans over to kiss her instead.

 

She tastes flecks of rain on his lips, and beneath that, heat. Her heart stutters as his lips massage hers, sparks and the warmth spreads out to her fingertips. Down to her toes. Her hands shake as she spears her fingers through his hair. His tremble against her skin as he caresses up under her shirt. She’s thinking of climbing into the backseat with him, of whispering all the forbidden words she’s tempered and held back since December, debating the prudence of making love to him in the middle of a public parking lot when a loud laugh and the slamming of a car door next to them interrupts.

 

“Oh my god! Tell me you have a towel in here!” someone shouts, before another door slams and Peeta winces.

 

Katniss grasps at him, frantically thinking they can recapture that moment of abandon once the other car leaves. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, settling back in his seat. Looking around, Peeta smiles and drags one finger through the fog already forming on the inside of the car’s windows. They wait a minute or two, and when the other car doesn’t budge, Katniss drives them home.

 

In the morning, Peeta once more rises before the sun and dons his blue polo shirt for a shift at the bakery, leaving Katniss curled in the warmth of their sheets, his kiss lingering on her lips. She doesn’t fight sleep this time, slips back into it’s waiting arms until her own alarm rouses her from bed.

 

Despite the interrupted moment the day prior, she’s in a good mood. Almost cheerful. To the point that Haymitch calls her into his office to ask her what’s wrong and Rue keeps giggling every time their gazes meet. As though she knows a secret that Katniss does not. The mood lasts until she walks through the door of her apartment, greeted by the sound of dough slapping onto a countertop.

 

Shutting the door behind her, she watches Peeta dig his fists into the shapeless mound, lifting a puff of flour. His face twisted in disgust, the second key to her apartment, which she gave him that morning, tossed on the corner of the counter next to his phone. Katniss hasn’t seen him like this since she left the big house. Even then, it was never quite this intense

 

“Hey,” she greets quietly. “What’d that dough ever do to you?”

 

Peeta keeps kneading it violently as she kicks off her shoes, peels off her stockings, and pads into the kitchen. When she rests her hand on his arm, he freezes, screwing his eyes shut.

 

“Nothing,” he spits out, and Katniss tries for a smile.

 

“Then what is it?” she prompts. He shakes his head, resumes kneading as she waits.

 

“We’ve been invited to dinner at my parents’ place tonight,” he tells her. She swallows and glances at the clock. Then back at his disheveled hair and the flour covering his arms. The wreck he’s made of the kitchen. “I told them we couldn’t make it.”

 

“Why not?” she asks, although truthfully, dinner with his family is the last thing she’s interested in right now.

 

“Because I’m sick of her trying to dictate my life for me,” he spits out. “I did exactly what she asked. Always. Worked my ass off at their bakery. Took her shit and pretended it didn’t hurt. Waited while Ryen pissed away seven years at college, changing his degree five times because they couldn’t afford to send us both at the same time. Paid for a few community college courses myself so I wouldn't stagnate while I waited. Paid my own way when he finally got his shit together enough to graduate because by then they couldn’t afford to send me at all. Didn't even whine or complain when they told me that, even though if they'd told me sooner I could've left sooner. Gave up art for a business degree I never wanted, and  _ FUCK _ !” he yells, launching the dough across the room. “This is useless now!”

 

Katniss jumps, stunned as the dough slides down the wall and Peeta staggers back. Away from her, his chest heaving in labored breaths. She knew he’d worked and gone to a community college, much like she had, but this is the first time she’s heard the reasons.

 

“What does this have to do with dinner with them tonight?” she asks quietly. He turns to her, his eyes wild and pained. For a second, the look recedes, giving her a glimpse of the calm Peeta she knows. Then it’s gone.

 

“Because she invited  _ my girlfriend _ ,” Peeta explains. “Because that’s the only acceptable reason in her head for what you and I are. For me not staying with them this week, or for all those visits in town where I neglected to work a shift for them or even tell them I was here because I didn't want to be guilted into working instead of being with you.

 

“When I said we couldn’t make it to dinner, she instead tried to call me out in it, accused me of fabricating some girl that was interested in me. Because I’m just that pathetic in her eyes. To her, I’m as worthless as  _ that _ !”

 

He points at the ruined dough as his shouts ring in the kitchen.

 

“But I’m  _ not _ gonna ask you to pretend to love me. Especially not for her.”

 

“Peeta,” she says helplessly as he grasps at his hair, clenches his teeth, visibly fighting back years of verbal abuse and manipulation at the hands of the one person he should have been able to trust above all others.

 

Katniss chases after him, wanting to tear his mother apart. Instead she rests her hands on his forearms, and at a loss for how to make him feel better, she kisses him full on the mouth, gently tracing his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, beseeching him to let her in, to let her soothe this hurt. Peeta's entire body shudders and a feral moan rumbles deep in his chest. Then it's like a switch is flipped inside of him or he capitulates to whatever demons he's been fighting. His hands grasp the back of her head, holding her in place, and his mouth slants over hers, his tongue pushing hers back and invading her mouth.

 

She yields gladly and squeals around his tongue as he practically devours her mouth. Arousal gathers between her legs as her heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through her. Peeta bites her lip then sucks it into his mouth, rolling it between his to soothe away the hurt.

 

He rips his mouth away and attacks her neck, sucking and nipping patches of flesh until her legs quake and she’s holding onto his shoulders to keep herself upright. Peeta is unrelenting as he licks over her skin, sending shivers down her legs, pulling panted pleas from between her lips.

 

He walks them towards the bedroom but lost in the haze of blind lust, they lose their footing and he backs her into the kitchen island instead. His hands grope down her body, pausing to squeeze her breasts and ass and leaving bits of flour and dough on her work clothes. He shoves her skirt up around her waist as he growls into her neck.

 

“I'm gonna fuck you with my fingers, Katniss. Fuck you on this counter. Then when you're done coming on my cock, I'm gonna fuck your mouth. And if you can still stand after that, I’m gonna fuck you on the floor. Any objections?”

 

She moans as he gives her an out; she doesn't recognize this voice or this savage touch, but she knows it's still Peeta beneath the growl and the aggression. She shakes her head frantically, and he yanks down one handed on her panties, the fabric digging into her hip and thigh until she drops her hand to help him. He holds her against the counter, fingers burrowing into her hips, as she lifts her feet and kicks the garment away and then his fingers part her folds.

 

“I still can't believe how fucking wet you get for me,” he rasps. “So fucking fast, too.”

 

Katniss tries to answer, to tell him it's because she wants him all the time, but his mouth latches to hers again, the force of his kiss bending her back over the counter and silencing any speech she might make. With gentle fingers and rough kisses, he fuels the fervor that’s taken hold of her entire being. It’s not enough, though. She needs the exquisite closeness only found skin to skin, and they’re still fully clothed. 

 

She grabs the hems of his polo and the white t-shirt beneath, tearing them both up over his head, the fabric severing their connection for just a second before he's kissing her again. Peeta's hands paw at the buttons of her shirt, but after his thick fingers struggle with the first few, he just grabs the edges and rips it open, sending buttons flying, pinging off the floor, the counter, the refrigerator. He leaves the shirt on her shoulders and her head in a daze at the speed and roughness of his movements.

 

“Peeta,” she gasps as he dips his head, his hand shoving one breast up out of her bra to his waiting mouth to suck on the tight peak. Her hands grip his hair, yanking and pushing mindlessly. “Ye-eeeeeessssss.”

 

He ravages one then the other breast. Unhooking the front clasp of her bra somewhere in the torment. And when she's writhing and moaning desperately, the edge of the counter digging into her back, he spins her around to face the sink.

 

Her palms slam into the cool surface to catch her balance and slip, turning on the water. She's barely oriented herself when he slips a finger inside her again, his other hand flattening on her abdomen, pulling her hips back into his as his finger massages her walls. A second finger and then his thumb pulling back the hood to find her clit.

 

Katniss surrenders to his demands, letting him touch her how he pleases because it's pleasing her too. Right to the brink. She wriggles and keens, unable to fight back or control the feelings storming through her body.

 

“Fuck you're so sexy,” Peeta murmurs as he pulls his fingers from her. She whimpers, the plaintive sound cut off as he pushes his fingers in her mouth. “Suck like you're gonna suck my cock later,” he commands. She does as he asks, hollowing her cheeks and cleaning her own arousal off his digits. Peeta groans low and wild.

 

“That's gonna feel so fucking good, Katniss. I might just cum in my pants thinking about it. But first,” he pulls his fingers out of her mouth and she hears the clank of his belt buckle as he undoes it. The cold brush of metal on her ass. The grinding slide of zipper and the shush of fabric falling to the floor.

 

She chances a look back over her shoulder at Peeta. As a last shaft of afternoon sun covers them, his palms and eyes roam over her backside. He’s breathing as heavily as her, his abs rolling with an apparent struggle to hold back, to control himself. Katniss bites her lip, her other lips aching to accept him. Their eyes meet for a moment, his dilated so far she can barely see a ring of blue around the bottomless black. In this moment, he’s tantalizing darkness, ravenous longing. She needs him, and her middle bottoms out as she realizes he might need her too.

 

“Peeta,” she whispers as he grips himself, his fist pumping furiously. Katniss watches amazed as he grows thicker under his own hand. He steps towards her, dragging his cock over her swollen lips. Up and down, almost teasing, until she’s writhing and yelling at him. 

 

He drives into her then, hips smacking into her ass hard enough to shove hers into the counter. She winces at the pain, but his hands and lips erase it with tender caresses. Instead of the ramming she expects, he cradles her hips in his hands, moving in slow precise strokes, his tongue lapping at the back of her neck. The moment of hurt is forgotten as Peeta fills her repeatedly, sending her walls fluttering and her pulse pounding. He whispers to her, the words lost beneath her cries but the timbre of his voice, hot and impassioned on her skin, causes excited tremors to ripple through her.

 

A cool liquid splashes on her skin, and Katniss gasps as his wet hand massages water from the faucet over her breasts and stomach. She begs him to do it again and quakes as her grants her request, his hips increasing their pace. It’s a study in contrasts. Hot bodies, cool water. Rough thrusts and gentle touches. And it drives her insane with how good it feels. But caught in their mad dash to the finish, their movements become sloppy, bouncing in a disjointed rhythm.

 

Leaning forward, Katniss cups her own hand in the cool stream, covers her fevered skin in the crisp relief, relinquishing the lead to Peeta. His fingers dig into her hips as he slams into her, pulling her back onto him at the same time, his strained grunts telling her that he’s close. Closer than she is.

 

Twisting her torso a small amount, she watches him -- head thrown back, muscles defined as they tense and bulge with each thrust, swollen lips parted on each unbridled noise. Katniss thinks he’s radiant this way, the flush of release already spreading over his torso.  His face contorts, his cock unyielding as he pounds into her. Then his rhythm breaks on a last desperate cry of her name. 

 

He sways on his feet, biting his lip and grinding his hips into her. She can feel him pulsing inside her, the warm spread of his cum as he shoots it deep. Katniss smiles, but Peeta’s gone rigid.

 

“Fuck, you didn’t come,” he says, and before she can answer or even blink, he’s pulled out of her, and tossed her up on the counter next to the sink. His fingers plunge back into her, his broad shoulders holding her open and his tongue maddening. Everywhere at once.

 

He gives her no warning, no reprieve. Just straight up fire until she’s screaming his name and convulsing around his fingers. She gasps for air and floats on bliss, allowing him to lift her from the counter, prop her against the chilled surface of the fridge, his hands removing the last of their clothing.

 

“I want you to come on my cock,” he says with only a hint of the savagery he showed earlier. Katniss gropes around until she finds him, growing hard again and still slick with their mingled juices.

 

“So make me come, Peeta,” she says. He groans and twirls them, lifts her onto the table, his body pressing down on hers as he kisses her. She rakes her nails down his back, rubs herself against him and grins beneath his lips as he hardens rapidly.

 

This time, he enters her more slowly, lifting one leg over his shoulder. She props herself on one elbow, wrapping the other leg around his waist and holding onto the back of his neck as he begins to move again. Slow measured thrusts that strike deep chords in her being. They kiss. All slobber and clashing teeth and harsh breaths. Katniss closes her eyes and lets her head fall back, arching into the heat spreading across her skin, coiling at her center. Her leg slips off his shoulder. He catches it in the crook of his elbow, the change not even budging his look of intense concentration, his focus on her eyes and every minuscule expression that passes over her face.

 

“Harder, Peeta,” she gasps. “Please.”

 

The table rocks beneath them, legs screeching as it moves a few inches across the tile floor and Peeta has to regain his position, but he doesn’t stop. Increasing the pace as her throaty moans fill the air and ecstasy blooms in her veins.

 

“Come for me, Katniss,” he whispers at the first clenching of her walls around him. A few more thrusts, and she does, spine rigid, throat hoarse as the flames lick over body, consuming her every thought and sense. Peeta stills inside her, his face a picture of delight as he savors the iron grip of her walls on him.

 

He waits until she’s coming off her high before he helps her off the table, her legs wobbling as she tries to regain her sense of balance. She’s going to be sore tomorrow, and she welcomes it. Relishes it, still awed by whatever came over Peeta, turning him into this embodiment of rough and passionate sex. All that simmering anger deliciously unleashed on her person.

 

They stagger towards the bedroom, and Peeta loses his grip on her sweat slicked skin. Her ass brushes against his still hard length, making Peeta hiss. Glancing down at him, Katniss watches, enthralled as he visibly throbs. The sight gives her pause, forces her to notice the absence of his semen dripping down her thighs.

 

He didn’t find release that second time.

 

It’s a quick jump from there to his earliest demands, and Katniss uses the momentum of their stagger to push him against the fridge, falling to her knees in the process. His hands flatten on the surface, the force of it making the fridge shudder as Katniss opens her mouth and swallows as much of him as she can fit.

 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he mumbles as his fingers clench into her hair and she bobs her head, hollowing her cheeks to suck off the musky layer of her and him combined that coats him. It’s not a taste she expects to enjoy, but it’s heady. Hedonistic and satisfactory. Her limbs ache, and her jaw throbs as he grips her tighter, holding her still and shifting so that he’s doing the work, plunging into her mouth. She focuses on massaging his balls, scraping her nails over his thigh, creating as much suction as possible while not gagging.

 

“Gonna cum,” he moans, his hands shifting to move her off of him. She grabs his ass and squeezes, letting him know where she wants him to finish. He’s stopped her from doing this every time before, delaying his release until he’s inside of her, making her climax first and leaving this task unfinished. But she wants to do this for him.

 

His cheeks clench beneath her hands and he inserts one hand between them, short frantic strokes on the base of his cock, milking himself as he pulses in her mouth, empties onto her waiting tongue. His hand still in her hair keeps her still as he shudders through his release. One spurt with a primal moan, a second and his knees give out, sending him slumping against the fridge. A third with a curse attached to her name as she swallows everything he gives her, looks up to find his eyes watching her. 

 

For just an instant, she wishes she could freeze this look of his, carry it with her everywhere. Live in a world where Peeta always looks at her like she’s the sun, the moon, and the stars. Like nothing could hurt him as long as they’re together. 

 

Then his phone rings, vibrating its way across the counter behind her and destroying the illusion.


	6. Kiss Shot

The racket of Peeta's phone slices through the moment. The look of rapture slides off his face, replaced with one of horror. He grasps Katniss’s wrists and pulls her upright, ignoring his phone in favor of caressing over her neck and collarbone.

 

“Fuck. What did I do?” he asks, his voice appalled. Before Katniss can decipher his meaning, Peeta spins around and digs in the freezer, pulling out handfuls of ice. Ever so gently, he cups his hands over her neck as the phone stops ringing.

 

“Katniss, I'm so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

 

“Peeta, I'm fine,” she says, shivering at the cold against her skin, leaning towards him. She rests her hands over his, watching in confusion as his mouth works, searches for words.

 

“I hurt you,” he whispers. “You're covered in red marks and bite marks.”

 

“You didn't hurt me,” she scowls, unsettled by how upset he seems. Shaking his head, Peeta slides his hands out from beneath hers, leaving her holding the ice in place as he steps away from her. A few stray pieces clatter to the floor, shattering into dozens of shards and skating off in all directions.

 

“It won't happen again,” he promises. She opens her mouth to tell him that's a ridiculous thing to promise when what just happened between them was amazing, but he picks up his phone to check who called him. “Johanna. I'll clean this mess up and call her back later.”

 

Caught in turmoil, Katniss has no idea what to say. She feels as though he's somehow slipping away from her. Before he can set the phone back down, though, it rings anew.

 

“Johanna again,” he says, shooting Katniss a strange look. “She’d just leave a message if it wasn’t urgent.”

 

Unable to dispute this statement, Katniss nods and leaves him in the kitchen, just catching the tenor of him answering as she walks through the bedroom towards the bathroom. She drops the ice in the sink and stares in the mirror at the crescent marks and round strawberries peppering her skin. She shivers once more, not from the cold of the ice that still pebbles her skin, but from the remnants of desire dredged up at the visible proof of their recent passion. Bewildered by Peeta's obvious shame and self-loathing at what just happened between them in comparison to the euphoria she feels, Katniss scowls at her reflection.

 

Starting the shower, Katniss tiptoes back to the bedroom door and peers around the edge. Peeta’s tugging his underwear back on, listening to whatever Johanna is saying. Working one handed brings the garment to rest crooked on his hips, and she eyes the light blue fabric as it gives her a tantalizing side view of his ass and hip. How is he so effortlessly sexy? God she could get used to seeing him like that in her kitchen. 

 

The thought kicks her in the chest. She stands immobile, fingers digging into the doorframe. Then he runs a hand through his already hopelessly mired curls. Tipping his head back, he closes his eyes for a second. 

 

“No, I’m still here,” he reassures Johanna. “Just a little preoccupied. Sorry.”

 

She shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but Katniss can’t help the irrational stab of jealousy. He’s standing in her kitchen in his boxer briefs, her scent still clinging to his skin, his taste still coating her tongue, and he’s talking to another woman. Soothingly. The way he used to talk to her when she was pouring her heart out, spilling her secrets over midnight bread. Nausea rises in her throat before she forces it back down.

 

No. She won’t do this again. Won’t doubt him again just because she can’t yet understand his reactions.

 

Turning on silent feet, she climbs into the shower and switches the water to run cold, to dampen her growing ire. Because while she can maybe scrub away her jealousy, what she can’t scrub away is her fear or her annoyance over his response to the sex they just had. Or that Peeta now appears to be avoiding their important talk he seemed so keen to dive into just a few days ago. She wonders what changed his mind. Doesn’t bother to acknowledge the fact that she’s been avoiding it, too.

 

Although she takes an extra long shower in the hope that he’ll join her, by the time Katniss climbs from the stall, there's still no sign of Peeta. Dressing in lounge pants and a tank top, she takes her time combing and braiding her hair before she ventures back into the kitchen. There, she finds Peeta still dressed in just his boxer briefs, scrubbing the counter top to rid it of flour, dough, and whatever traces of desire she left behind when his tongue and fingers were knuckle deep inside her.

 

He's tense and silent. Focused solely on his task. A quick glance around the kitchen reveals that he's cleaned up the rest of the mess already. Sneaking up behind him, she caresses his sides, up around the front of his torso to embrace him, pressing her body to his back and resting her cheek on the clenched muscles.

 

“Everything okay with Johanna?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” he says. She can hear the lie in his voice and tears sting her eyes as she wonders what he's keeping from her. “Hungry for dinner?”

 

“Yeah,” she responds.

 

They spend dinner in near silence, broken only with inconsequential questions and observations. Please pass the salt. Would you like any more potatoes? The chicken is good. Are you working again tomorrow?

 

“Afternoon shift,” he tells her then pauses before delivering a surprising bit of news. “I actually have a job interview tomorrow morning.”

 

“Here? In Louisville?” she asks.

 

“Yes. Is that okay?”

 

Katniss shrugs, his news stirring mixed feelings in her, so she does what she always does when she's confused. She avoids answering. Peeta looks away from her and pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

“I know I should’ve told you sooner,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just had a lot of other things on my mind, too.”

 

They’re conversation is stilted and limited the rest of the night. It makes her want to throw something.

 

Once they're in bed, Peeta doesn't pull her into his arms the way he usually does, instead facing away from her and curling one arm around his pillow. Anger surges in her veins. So much so that Katniss shakes with it. She tosses for a good hour before she finally finds sleep, and when she does, there is no rest to be found.

 

Her dreams that night taunt her with a tangled web that snares her in iridescent ropes. She can hear Prim calling for her, her voice strained and echoing across the miles. Spiders swarm beneath her feet and Gale pulls her from the web, streamers of the silken material still clinging to her arms and legs. She throws herself into his arms, momentarily comforted by the familiar feel of his body aligned with hers, but when she pulls back to speak to him, his eyes burn red and his teeth lengthen into dark spider fangs.

 

With a scream of horror lodged in her throat, she races down empty corridors and finds Effie, the woman from the furniture store, spouting off a lecture about decorum. Her father calls out her name once, but she can’t find him. There’s a steady thumping, something like a heartbeat and she chases the sound, somehow knowing that if she finds the beating heart, she’ll find Peeta and this nightmare will end.

 

On and on she races, but the further she goes, the slower the heart beats until it’s barely even there. A fog swirls around her and Peeta’s fingers brush over her cheek, a taste of violet joy, right before the spiders overwhelm her, and she’s left thrashing in her bed, screaming for him to run.

 

“Katniss, wake up,” Peeta urges, his touch lifting her out of the darkness. She rolls into him and sobs into his shirt while his hands run up and down her back, soothing her. “Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

 

She nods and clutches tighter to him, his whispers and his arms slowly calming her down, guarding her from the dangers of the night.

 

“Just a bad dream,” he whispers on repeat to her, his lips brushing over her hair. When she’s calmed down enough, he asks if she wants to talk about it. Katniss shakes her head, and Peeta just holds her closer to his chest. She wants to beg him to hold her like this until she falls asleep again. To be here tomorrow night and every night after, just in case the dreams return or worsen.

 

Instead, her lips search for his in the darkness, find his jaw first. Peeta sighs as she kisses over the stubbled ridge and finally finds his mouth, warm and waiting for her. She rolls onto her back and tugs him over her, a solid blanket between her and the world.

 

“Katniss,” he murmurs against her lips as she wraps her arms and legs around him, holding him tight to her. “We can’t keep doing this. We need to talk.”

 

“Tomorrow,” she pleads. He sighs again, but kisses her back, his tongue licking soothing fire into every deep crevice of her mouth. 

 

Her phone vibrates, the screen illuminating a small section of air above it. She ignores it, not wanting to leave Peeta’s warm embrace. It vibrates twice more, and this time, Peeta lifts his head, glancing over at the intrusion.

 

“You want to answer that?” Peeta asks quietly.

 

“No. I want you to keep kissing me,” she says, winding her hands in his hair to pull his lips back down to hers. She doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. She wants Peeta to hold her, to continue to soothe her nightmares. To kiss her and maybe whisper that he loves her. He hasn’t said that to her since December and she’s starting to think it was a dream.

 

Their kisses are slow and unhurried, but spine-tingling deep. Her toes curl into the backs of his legs as his hips grind gently into hers. Soft sighs and prolonged moans. Brushes of fingertips over cheeks, wiping away tears. Gradually, her nightmare recedes. The kisses turn languid. Sleepy. Until they’re almost nuzzles instead of kisses.

 

When she wakes to her alarm, she’s unaware of when she finally fell back asleep. But she knows it was deep and restful. She feels refreshed, a delicious feeling of joy that’s somehow connected with Peeta fluttering inside her. As awareness returns and the alarm still blares, Katniss smiles at their position. They’ve barely moved from their kissing session during the night. Peeta lays half on top of her, one leg wedged between hers, his face tucked into the crook of her neck with his soft breaths tickling her skin. One arm wrapped protectively around her, holding her against his frame. Afraid to disturb him just yet, she remains perfectly still, ignoring the alarm clock until his leg twitches and the noise finally pulls him from slumber, too.

 

“Unf,” he grunts and rolls off of her. “Good morning.”

 

Katniss smacks the snooze button and follows him, resting her cheek on his chest, right on the spot where she knows she’ll find the steady beat of his heart. She smiles at the soothing pulse against her cheek, the feel of his hands as Peeta absentmindedly rubs her arms and back. Draping one leg over him, Katniss murmurs a “Good morning” in return. She doesn’t want to wake yet. Doesn’t want to rise out of bed and face the intrusive world. She wishes every morning could be like this.

 

Peeta hisses as her leg moves higher on his body, brushes over his morning wood. A thrill traces through her and she presses her thigh down into him, drawing a pained moan from deep inside Peeta's chest. His hand grips her thigh to halt her movements.

 

“Katniss, please,” he begs with his eyes still shut and his voice rough. Grateful for the return to familiar territory with him, she smiles for the three heartbeats that pass with him melting in her hands, before he speaks again, stopping her cold. “We’re supposed to talk today, remember?”

 

“Right. Well I have to go to work now, so it’ll just have to wait,” she insists as the snooze goes off on her alarm.

 

“Katniss, please don’t shut me out,” he says as she rolls away from him and slams her hand on the clock to turn it off. She watches the minutes flip over on her alarm clock, listens to his labored breathing, as though he's fighting something back.

 

When she can no longer deal with the silence, she turns back over and throws the covers aside. Peeta jumps, his eyes now wide and his sleep shorts tented. Encouraged, Katniss straddles him. Kisses him, and wills him to respond. With another pained moan, he does, gripping her hips and aiding her as she grinds down on him. Afraid to break the moment, she doesn’t break the kiss. When his movements are as desperate as hers, she flings them sideways; Peeta finishes the move until they’re reversed, with the sheets tangled around their legs and his hips circling down into hers. She’s wet and wild, hips jerking beneath his as her panties grow slicker, the feel of the soaked fabric rubbing her clit and the pressure of him drilling down on her spurs her forward until she’s moaning around his tongue, shuddering in release, pulling on his curls, and blushing at how fast she peaked while they were still fully clothed. He keeps moving until he joins her, too, releasing her mouth to moan her name.

 

“Uhhh, Kat-niss,” he turns it into a plea. Afterwards, they lay in silence, catching their breath, until they can no longer remain or they really will be late. 

 

Without another word, she rises and walks towards the bathroom. He follows, and climbs into the shower while she washes her face and brushes her teeth. She dresses for work. Peeta does the same, only he dons a suit she's never seen him wear. He's undeniably handsome in it, but the perfect double Windsor knot in his royal blue tie looks like it's choking him. They keep glancing at one another over the breakfast table, never for long, though. Dance around one another as they load their plates into the dishwasher and head towards the door.

 

“Where’s your interview?”

 

“It’s uh, actually with the Better Business Bureau,” he says.

 

“Oh, okay,” she says, slinging her purse up on to her shoulder.

 

“See you after work,” he says and kisses her lips. Delicately.

 

She nearly growls and contemplates grabbing his hair and shoving him to the floor so she can ride him hard,  _ without _ their clothes on this time, before he leaves. To let him know she's sturdy enough to take it. That she  _ loved _ the way he loved her last night, even if she can’t explain why. But Peeta's gone before she can act on the impulse.

 

It's a long and frustrating day at work. Alma Coin terrorizes half her branch, on a personal vendetta against updating certain stretches of park walkways with the new solar cell pavement they're trying to implement. Sure, the cost is high up front but the payout of powering the surrounding neighborhoods on clean energy is well worth it in Katniss’s mind. Apparently Madame Coin disagrees, though, because she's got half the office cowering to her demands. 

 

The middle of the night texts were from Gale. Their months long silence finally broken with a handful of bitter words that she ignores. 

 

_ I miss you. We were good together, weren’t we? _

 

_ You’re fucking him right now, aren’t you?  _

 

_ Shit I need another drink. _

 

By the time lunch rolls around, Katniss is desperate to escape. She texts Peeta to see if he's available to join her, and when he doesn't answer her, she gets her lunch to-go and sits beneath a tree in a nearby park. She tells herself he's busy. That he has no real reason to ignore her. She refuses to acknowledge the rift growing between them or the splintering cracks around her heart that feel like they’re growing wider by the second.

 

Instead, she tries to focus on something positive. It’s what Peeta would do if he were here with her now. He would help her find something good to think about and banish all her fears and frustrations, if temporarily. An image of Peeta in their kitchen, greeting her with a smile and tender kisses comes to her. A quiet evening lazing on the couch she hasn’t bought yet, with no school for him to rush back to, no need to cram as much time together as possible in the hours he’s there. His toothbrush permanently next to hers. His first morning smile and his impassioned moans reserved for her, every morning. Every night. Then the images turn amorphous but still joyful. An unknown future together. This is what she would gain if he manages to find a job in the same city as her.

 

And if she doesn’t somehow manage to screw it up.

 

As she eats, she clings to the delicious feelings, enjoying the new warmth of spring. In the midst of her meal, a mother and her son enter the park. He appears to be around four or five years old. Katniss watches as the boy climbs over the playground in delight. His giggles and cries of play join the birdsong. She smiles as he pretends to be a knight and befriends the dragon living under the slide. They fly across the hot lava pits beneath the monkey bars.

 

But her heart stutters as he calls repeatedly for his mother to look at him. To watch what he can do, and the woman remains with her head bent over her phone, not bothering to look up even as she tells her son that she can see him.

 

Katniss tries to tell herself that she shouldn't judge. She has no idea what this woman's life is like. But the joyful, imaginative boy steals her heart even as he and his dragon friend plunder the pirates’ treasure from beneath the playground.

 

“Look Mom!” The boy calls out as he holds up a handful of recycled rubber mulch for her inspection. “Rubies!”

 

“I see them,” the mother responds without lifting her head. The boy’s smile dims, some of the light leaves his eyes.

 

“Mama,” he says and climbs up on the bench beside her.

 

“Mama’s busy. Go play,” she says in exasperation. The boy’s eyes examine the phone for a minute before he climbs back down and returns to his play, some of the joy gone from his games.

 

After that, Katniss can't stand to watch. She finishes her pasta, and as she cleans up her mess, she looks back over at the boy one last time.

 

“Can I have a juice pack, Mom? I'm thirsty,” he says softly, as though afraid of the answer.

 

“Sure,” she says and pulls one from her bag. Her phone pings just then and the woman turns her attention to whatever message she received. The boy waits for a second then picks up the juice pack when it's clear he's lost his mother's attention.

 

His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on getting the straw from its wrapper and the pointy end through the foil hole. He fails spectacularly, juice streaming from the straw in a geyser, his small fist holding the pack only worsening the spray. The juice douses both his mother and her phone, making the woman screech.

 

“Samuel!”

 

“I'm sorry, Mama!” he cries, releasing the juice pack with eyes widened in horror. “It was an accident!”

 

“You should have waited!” his mother scolds, shaking juice from her hands and frantically drying her phone. “God, why are you such a pain?”

 

Katniss watches as the boy retreats in on himself, doesn't even struggle when his mother grabs him roughly and drags him from the park, leaving behind the juice pack. And as the mother marches the boy to their car, smacking the back of his head when he trips, the air is sucked from Katniss’ lungs. Because it's suddenly not just some boy she's watching. It's Peeta's past. And in some way, his future if he returns to Louisville. 

 

_ “You're up late,” Katniss says, startling Peeta. He juggles the hot cookie sheet in his oven mitts before finally setting it safely on the counter. _

 

_ “Couldn't sleep,” he explains. _

 

_ “Me either,” she says as she slides into one of the chairs at the table. Instead of telling him why, though, she points towards the cookies. “What kind are those?” _

 

_ “Lemon cream delights,” he explains. _

 

_ “Are we making lemonade outta lemons tonight?” she teases as he scoops a few from the cooling rack onto a plate and hands them to her. This isn't the first time they've met in the kitchen late at night. _

 

_ “Sure,” he says and settles across from her with his own plate. _

 

_ They eat in silence for a few minutes until Peeta fills it with words. _

 

_ “So what are your lemons today?” _

 

_ “Phone call from my mother,” she says.  _

 

_ “Oh?” Peeta prompts her for more, and as she stares at his open and kind eyes, she finds herself actually wanting to talk about it. _

 

_ “Oh the usual from her. Reminders to keep my grades up so I don’t fail and wind up in a dead-end mining job back home.” _

 

_ “Sounds like a great pep talk,” Peeta says and she snorts. _

 

_ “No, see, it’s that she’s always claimed that she loved my Dad so much. But then she says shit like that about the town he was born in or the job he held, and I can’t figure it out. If she loved him so much, why does she feel trapped there? Love shouldn’t be a trap.” _

 

_ “Maybe she doesn’t see your Dad as the town he was born in or the job he held down, but as the person he was. Maybe your Dad didn’t want his life for you, and she knows that.” _

 

_ “Maybe,” Katniss says and bites into another cookie, not liking the unpleasant feeling Peeta’s words have given her. She’d never thought of it that way, and it makes her view her mother differently. Brushing it aside, unwilling to deal with it, Katniss asks him around her mouthful of cookie. _

 

_ “What about you?” _

 

_ “Same kind of thing. Sort of. Apparently it's been too long since I went home for a visit and I'm neglecting my family obligations.” _

 

_ She processes this for a few minutes, a little uncomfortable with the word ‘obligations’ in respect to family. Shouldn’t family be about love, not obligations? While she’s thinking about this, something else she's always wondered about him surfaces. _

 

_ “Why'd you come all the way here when you could've gone to Louisville? Would've saved you a bunch of money,” she says and pops another cookie in her mouth. _

 

_ “Well yeah, it would've. But I needed a change, you know?” _

 

_ Katniss shrugs, not really understanding. Louisville is a big city full of opportunities. Places to get lost if you need a change. _

 

_ “Not important,” Peeta brushes it off. “What is important is what you think of the cookies.” _

 

_ “Well I'm no food critic, but they're not bad,” she says. _

 

_ “Not bad?” he asks as though she's just insulted him. “Oh I can do better than that.” _

 

_ “Maybe,” she says with a smile. “Or maybe I should eat a few more just to be sure.” _

 

_ After a beat, Peeta grins at her, but plates a couple more cookies without a word. _

 

_ “For science,” she says before biting into the tart treat. _

 

It was after that night that she and Peeta started to share more. After that night when she finally told him about her recurring nightmares about her dad's death and her mother's brief but painful negligence. He told her about his mother and her harsh words and sometimes harsh hands. But it's in this moment, watching the dejected boy climbing into the car that Katniss connects Peeta's desire to escape Louisville five years ago and even before that with his mother. His words and actions yesterday take on new meaning. His disgust at leaving marks on her body no longer an enigma. 

 

She flips the scenario from earlier around in her head again, and this time, instead of a smiling Peeta, she imagines returning home to an increasingly angry and frustrated one, beat down beneath the cruel words of his mother, whom he won’t be able to escape if he moves back here. Katniss can’t allow that to happen to him

 

All afternoon, she works in a haze. Certain of only one thing. Peeta can't move back to Louisville, no matter how much Katniss herself secretly wants that. 

 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid,  _ she chants in her head as she thumps it onto her desk in time with the words. She can’t believe that for that one moment while she was still on her knees yesterday, she’d almost told Peeta that she loves him. She can’t believe she thought of running home this afternoon with the words spilling from her lips. Insipidly thinking three little words could magically fix everything for them.

 

She can’t tell him now. Because if she tells him now, he’ll just work that much harder to stay with her. Here. In the same city as his awful mother. And as loudly as every fiber of her being clamors for the need, the acute wish to have him always by her side, she knows it wouldn’t be good for him. That it’s selfish to even ask it of him. He’d be better off forgetting about Katniss and moving as far away as he can.

 

She’s composing a way to get him to leave without breaking him, ignoring the possibility that pushing him out of her life may very well break her, and selfishly thinking maybe she won’t have to, that his interview will go horribly, when her desk phone rings and she answers automatically. Her canned greeting rolls off her tongue.

 

“Katniss, honey, it’s--”

 

“Hi, Mom,” Katniss says before her mother can state the obvious.

 

“I’m so sorry to disturb you at work. It’s just, I was shopping online yesterday and found this used pool table, and well, you and your father used to play all the time--”

 

“What were you doing shopping online?” Katniss asks, ignoring the mention of her dad. “Do they have internet in Seam now?”

 

“Uhm, not really, honey. I moved to Baltimore a few days ago, to be with your sister.”

 

Anger swirls in Katniss’ veins at her mother’s final abandonment of Katniss and her Dad. At the exclusion she feels, being left out of this bit of news.

 

“Why’d you even marry Dad?” she seethes. “If you were so eager to get out of Seam?”

 

There’s a long silence and Katniss sits with every muscle tensed, waiting for vindication.

 

“Because we were in love. And that love was enough to make the life we lived there bearable. Of course, there were rough times. But you work through them when you love someone. And I know I didn’t do well by you and Prim after he passed. I...I was sick, and maybe if I’d had the medicine or the help I needed...but those are excuses, and Katniss, I am so sorry.”

 

“You practically kicked us out,” Katniss hisses. Rue leans back in her chair to peer around the wall separating their desks.  _ Are you okay?  _ she mouths. Nodding, Katniss returns to her conversation and ignores the concerned look that Rue gives her.

 

“Because your father and I wanted you both to have a chance at a better life. To have more choices than we did. Things worked out for your father and me, but they didn’t for so many others in that town.”

 

“Oh yeah, he’s dead, but it worked out for him.”

 

“Katniss Elise Everdeen,” her mother says in a scolding tone Katniss hasn’t heard in years, and even then it was rare. “Yes, he died. Yes, I lost my grip on things for awhile. But I wouldn’t trade the dozen or so years we had together for an eternity with anyone else. And neither would he.”

 

She blinks and stares at her desk, awed by her mother’s conviction. Her mother sighs and gentles her tone once more.

 

“The point is, Katniss, I made the choice to marry him and stay in Seam with him. Even though there were days that were bad enough to make me consider leaving, yes. I made the choice everyday to stay and to love him and to love both my girls. He made the same choice. Whatever pain we went through together, the joy was that much sweeter. And I wouldn’t change it if I could.”

 

Katniss doesn’t know what to say or how to handle all of this, and her mother seems to know that, changing the subject back to where they began.

 

“As I was saying, I found a used pool table, and my new job here pays quite a bit more than my old one, so I bought it for you as a housewarming and graduation gift. The delivery truck is supposed to bring it to your apartment this afternoon. They’ll call you in advance. And they’ve already been tipped. I know you haven’t bought living room furniture yet, but the table should fit in that space right next to your bedroom wall. Don’t you think?”

 

“Yes,” Katniss says, rubbing her temples to ease the headache she’s developing. “Uhm, I think it should.”

 

“I know it may mean little to you, coming from me, Katniss, but I am so proud of you. And I know your father would be too.”

 

After they hang up, Katniss moves through her afternoon on autopilot, her mind in a constant churn over what her mother said and what she should do. Only when the delivery service calls to let her know they’re thirty minutes out from her place does she manage to organize her thoughts even the smallest amount.

 

Avoidance can no longer be her approach. She -- they have to turn around and face what they’re both afraid of. 

 

A quick glance at her watch tells her Peeta should be at the bakery a little longer. Gathering her things, she heads towards the door, only to be stopped by Alma Coin and a snide remark about Haymitch’s team cutting their hours short.

 

“Look, lady,” Katniss says, whirling on the woman, uncaring if she loses her job. She’s done. Had enough. “You’re throwing roadblocks in front of a city-mandated project all because you’ve got investments in the contractor’s competitor. We all know it, and I suggest if you don’t want one of us to nark on you to the mayor’s office for conflict of interest, then you get your shit together and leave us alone to do our jobs and get the project done.”

 

She spins on her heel, unaware how loudly she had spoken until she stalks by Haymitch’s office. He’s leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. She’s never seen him smile and it makes her freeze. As they stare at one another, he stands straight and slowly applauds her.

 

“Nice work, Sweetheart,” he says, the words barely audible over the cheers of her co-workers.

 

“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” she tells him instead, and he nods, as though he half expected it. Since she started, she hasn’t taken a single day off, though.

 

“You do that. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Her shoulders relax as his words sink in. He won’t be firing her over her outburst. “Get outta here, kid.”

 

With a grin, Katniss leaves the office, her smile remaining as they unload her new pool table. It’s clearly used, the felt faded in some places and the wood scratched, but it’s sturdy and still flat. And all hers. She’s thrilled to see her mother sent a brand new set of balls and cue sticks as well. There’s even a fresh package of chalk. She checks her watch, starts some lasagna baking for dinner, and jumps when Peeta’s key grates in the lock, her heart thudding in her chest.

 

“You’re home early,” he says when he sees her standing by the pool table.

 

“Had to be here to receive my house-warming gift from my mother,” she explains and runs her hands over the wood and felt border, still a little high on her confrontation with Coin.

 

“That’s quite the gift,” he says, setting his things on the kitchen counter. 

 

“I thought we could play a game,” she says, racking the balls.

 

“Katniss,” he starts, but she cuts him off, because if she’s going to do this, she needs to do it her way or she might not survive it.

 

“So here are the rules. We are allowed one question or statement per strike regardless of whether or not we score, and the other person has to answer questions but doesn’t have to respond to statements. Make sense?”

 

“Not really,” Peeta says with a resigned sigh.

 

“I’ll go first and demonstrate,” she says, removing the rack and positioning the cue ball. She aims and strikes, scattering the balls and ignoring where they fall as she stands up and faces Peeta.

 

“What were you talking to Johanna about for nearly an hour after we had sex all over our kitchen last night?” She can’t help it, the jealousy still simmers in her. And maybe a part of her needs to work up to the more difficult part of this conversation.

 

Peeta shifts his footing and releases a puff of exasperation before he approaches the table and picks up a cue stick.

 

“First off, Johanna is in love with Madge,” Peeta tells Katniss. “Has been for a long time. But sometimes, a person needs to talk to someone who’s been through the same sort of things as they have to find understanding.”

 

She’s confused and shakes her head. Peeta runs a hand through his hair.

 

“Fuck, this isn’t mine to tell, Katniss. Johanna’s father abused her. Not a few slaps or a cuff on the neck or a smack of the ear or the occasional bruise. But bloody lips, black eyes, can’t sit for a few days, kind of hits.”

 

“Oh,” Katniss says, all her annoyance draining out of her. So this is the connection they share. The thing she could never place or name. Abusive parents. She stands motionless as Peeta moves to the table and makes a hit, managing to sink the three.

 

“Why is Gale always dropping hints that you’re two seconds away from kicking me to the curb?”

 

Her entire frame goes rigid as she stares at him. She can’t believe Gale’s been doing that. Talking shit about her behind her back, to Peeta. Her mouth drops open and the words stick in her throat. She has to forcibly dislodge them.

 

“I don’t know,” she whispers, not sure anymore if they should continue this game. “Maybe because we dated before I even met you, and now he’s…”

 

“Jealous?” Peeta finishes and she slowly nods. Moves to the table to take her turn. The crack of the balls colliding sounds dull in her ears.

 

“I was going to come home and tell you to stop looking for jobs here in Louisville. To look somewhere else. To go back to school and date a dozen or a hundred girls that aren’t me.”

 

He squeezes his eyes shut and nods, as though resigned. Katniss watches the clench of his jaw, the forceful way he swallows, and the sight oddly fills her with hope. He moves to the other side of the table and makes one quick, angry strike. The four bounces high and lands on the floor, rolls off into a corner.

 

“Why?”

 

“There was this mother in the park with her son and she--well it doesn’t matter,” Katniss says when she sees the confusion on Peeta’s face. “The point is, it has to be your choice.”

 

“You’re not making any sense, Katniss,” he says, and she knows she’s muddling it all up, but she has to get it all out somehow, so she takes aim again and hits another ball, bouncing it off a wall, uncaring if it sinks.

 

“You went four hours away to school seeking change, and an escape from your mother. Why do that just to return here now?”

 

“Because of you,” he says in a pained voice, like it’s killing him to tell her these things. “I’m not coming back here for her. I want to be with  _ you _ .”

 

She nods, and before he takes a turn, makes another hasty hit.

 

“I don’t want you to feel trapped here with me,” she says as the twelve spins wildly across the table. She watches as he works through her words, places them with what he knows about her, and understanding breaks across his face.

 

He takes a sloppy hit and makes his statement before the balls even come to rest.

 

“You’re afraid of this,” he says motioning between them. “But you’re also trying to protect me from her. By pushing me away.”

 

She nods and tilts her chin up, unashamed of what she was willing to do to protect him, but she can see him drop the cue on the table, knocking a few of the balls out of the way.

 

“That doesn’t count,” she says as he cups her cheeks.

 

“They moved. It counts,” he insists, tilting his face down to meet hers, dragging the rough pad of his thumb along her jawline as her lips part unbidden and her chest tightens. His nose brushes hers, drawing her gaze up to meet his. So close. So intense and blue. “You love me?”

 

“I do,” she whispers, the words tangling on her tongue, but as they hang in the air between them, Katniss knows they’re the truth, and she’s been cowardly to try and hide from them since December. The acknowledgement makes the next phrase slip easily from her mouth. “I love you, Peeta.”

 

His lips embrace her bottom lip, and at their slight tug she melts into him. Smiles as he releases her lip, breathes out onto her cupid’s bow, the sound tremulous. Longing. Gripping his shirt, Katniss inhales the sweet scent of yeast, of cinnamon and dill that still clings to him, probably from the breads he worked with today. 

 

“You said ‘was.’ That you  _ were _ going to tell me to look elsewhere. Do you still want me to go away?”

 

“No,” she breathes out desperately. “I want you to stay with me. But I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

 

“Then don’t ever try to pull some fucked up shit like that on me, okay?” he whispers, and she nods. “Because I think it might destroy me to leave you, though I will if that’s what you want. I’m scared, too, Katniss. But only when I think that maybe this is just a dream and not real.”

 

One at a time, he wraps his arms around her, binding her to him. With the added support, she releases his shirt, tangles her fingers into his hair and sighs, her parted lips welcoming his as they press fully onto hers. Move in a slow caress that sends her thoughts scattering. Nothing in her head except  _ Peeta Peeta Peeta _ . Two beats to match the thud of her heart against her ribcage as they kiss.

 

His hands roam her back, up into her still plaited hair, and when he pulls back, their harsh pants fill the air. She licks her swollen lips as his hands unwind her braid, his fingers gently combing out the twists until her hair hangs unbound down her back.

 

“Katniss,” he murmurs, a plea and an answer all in one, before his mouth finds her neck and ears, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, to tease her until she’s trembling in his arms. His mouth joins hers again, open and inviting. She tugs on his hair and he moans as she swirls her tongue against his. Peeta’s fingers clench into her skin, pull her tight to him. Katniss smiles at the hard ridge caught between them.

 

As one, they part, but only a breath away as hands peel away her blazer, pluck open the buttons of her shirt, tug his up over his head and fling the lot aside. He only slows as he unbuttons her pants, his eyes watching hers as his knuckles caress her skin in the process and her head falls back in delight, her hands running up and down his arms. Bending over, Peeta kisses the curve of her hip, making her skin quiver and heat rush through her. He peels away the fabric of her pants, just to the swell of her thighs, walks them until she’s backed against the pool table.

 

Then his lips return to her neck and she gasps to the ceiling as his fingers glide from the rib right below her bra, down into her panties. Her hips roll up towards him, seeking his touch.

 

“God, I never get tired of touching you,” he breathes into her fevered skin, the words curling around her neck as his fingers delve into her slick folds. He traces her lips and dips teasingly between them, circles her clit a few times as she wriggles, ravenous for more.

 

“Peeta, please,” she pleads. He touches her in earnest then, his arm flexing beneath her hand as his fingers stretch and fill her. Send tremors of need pulsing through her limbs until she’s writhing in his grip and shamelessly begging for his cock inside her.

 

He doesn’t stop, though. Fervent kisses all over her torso, vigorous thrusts and dips of his fingers. Her body goes rigid as he curls his fingers, presses and rubs the spongy spot just inside her as his thumb assails her clit. Her body seizes in a ripple of profound pleasure, her thighs quaking and clenching, holding his hand in place as she soaks it with her release.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers, kissing her lips and cheeks, over her chin and chest. When she relaxes around his hand, he removes his fingers from her, then sucks them into his mouth. Licks up over his palm and the back of his hand to clean her from him. “Tell me it’s not a dream.”

 

“Bedroom. Now,” she orders. Peeta smiles deviously at her.

 

“First you have to say it again,” he says. “I’ll go first and demonstrate.”

 

“It’s real, Peeta,” she says before he can utter another word.

 

He kisses her and grips her thighs, hefting her into the air. She winds her legs around him as he starts walking towards the bedroom. When they come up for air, he practically hums.

 

“I love you, Katniss.”

 

“I love you, Peeta,” she returns, holding his cheeks in her palms, savoring the smile that covers his face, the light that sparks in his eyes. “Bedroom, now?”

 

“Hell yes,” he tells her right before her stomach swoops and she squeals with the drop as they fall onto the bed. She laughs as they bounce on the mattress, laughs into his mouth as she scrambles backwards up towards the pillows, and he follows with his mouth caressing hers. Grinning at her, he tugs on her pants, prompting her to shimmy her hips as he peels them the rest of the way down her legs then flings them across the room. 

 

Katniss laughs again, but stops when he grabs her wrists and pins them over her head, his mouth hovering over hers, eyes searching for approval. As though he still needs it. She arches up, and kisses him again. She thinks she knows what he means, because she never gets tired of his lips on hers. She’s certain she never will. Not when his kisses only make her need for him greater.

 

His hands shift, lacing their fingers together as her body undulates beneath his, her core grazing his erection with each movement. Peeta groans and his mouth travels across her cheek, back over to her neck, bringing fire and rapacious need everywhere his lips touch. His hands release her wrists and she grips the headboard as he works his way down her body, up over the swell of her breasts, still encased in her cotton bra, down her sternum. Unhurried. Leisurely.

 

She thinks to protest his pace, but then his fingers curl around the waist of her panties and pull. Eager to be free of the garment, to feel his insatiable lips and tongue on her, she lifts her hips, yet Peeta’s slow movements and the reverent look on his face as he drinks in her fully nude form tempers her haste. They’ve been doing this for months now, slowly dancing towards this moment when questions and doubts no longer hang on the periphery. Katniss realizes that every time before was just another step closer to this, another layer of armor peeled away, and it makes her want to slow down even more. To commit every caress and subtle change in Peeta’s expression to memory.

 

She can’t believe how sentimental he’s made her and bites down on one knuckle to keep the inexplicable tears from sneaking their way from her eyes.

 

Peeta kisses her hips, dips low on her navel. Down one thigh then up the other as he holds her leg to the side. Even though she’s expecting it, anticipating it,  _ craving _ it, she nearly comes off the bed with the first stroke of his tongue on her. They moan together as he consumes her, maintaining his agonizing pace, working her back towards the brink, but never close enough to fly. He keeps his eyes locked on hers the entire time, narrowing her world to the feel of him between her thighs, the sounds of him pleasuring her and her own moans in her ears, the sight of his blue eyes over her quivering belly and rolling hips.

 

“Peeta,” she mewls, and he stops suddenly, moves up her body and holds himself over her with one arm as he struggles to unclasp his belt.

 

“Fuck I need to be inside you now, Katniss, or I’m gonna lose it,” he whines. With a lascivious grin and eager hands, she helps him, but as he’s trying to kick off his work khakis, she pushes on his shoulder. “What the--?”

 

He flops back on the bed and she climbs on top of him. He still kicks away his pants, but she’s claimed control now, as easily as she grips him in her fist. Peeta curses and clenches the sheets on either side of her knees, bucks into her hand, sliding his throbbing cock along her palm. Tracing her thumb over the tip, she enjoys his shudder as she wipes off the bead of pre-cum and spreads it over him before aligning their cores. Katniss spirals down onto him. Their bodies bow and their throats release hoarse moans as they’re joined, her hips finally resting on his, his hands skimming up her thighs to rest on her waist, and she feels the thrill of the last piece of the puzzle snapping into place.

 

Peeta holds his palms up to her and she clasps their hands together, his strong arms providing leverage as she rolls her hips over him. Utilizing his slow cadence from earlier to drive him as wild as he did to her. They keep their eyes locked on one another as they move in the soft afternoon light -- hazed, scattered, softened by the gauzy curtains. His features seem to glow in this light, or maybe it’s just them. All Katniss knows is that he’s radiant, and she feels radiant with his love darkened eyes watching her, his teeth catching on his lip every now and then before his mouth parts again  to release a breathy moan. The silence around them punctuated only by their amorous sounds.  _ Like that. Faster. Feels so good.  _ Names and soft  _ ohs _ drawn out into a precious song.

 

Overcome with the need to be closer, Katniss releases his hands. Bending over him, she fuses their mouths together as she rocks more forcefully over him. But it feels so good, she has to clench his jaw in her hands and screw her eyes shut to fight back the burning need to go faster still. Harder.

 

As they move, with his moans caressing over her tongue, the currents around her and coursing through her shift. She relaxes into the movements as he echoes them beneath her, humming at the bewitching sight of his blue eyes watching her with unabashed love and pleasure shining in their depths. She feels like she’s drowning and doesn’t care to be saved. His hands flutter over her hips and ass, up her back in silken touches. Raising cool fire as they go. The need to capture and savor each moment. To hold off on the race to the finish.

 

He unclasps her bra and paints the straps down off her shoulders. She lifts her torso from his enough for him to finish disrobing her, to discard the scrap of cotton as she never ceases her movements. As Katniss writhes over him, he caresses up to her chest, palming one breast, and as she arches at the exquisite feel of his palm on her bare nipple, he lifts himself to suck the dusky bud into his heated mouth.

 

Her movements grow more frantic as he laves first one and then the other, hands clenching and pulling her ass to get her up higher on his body. She whimpers and rolls her hips as his cock slides inside her, feels as though he’s reaching her deepest parts. When he releases her breasts, she switches to smooth up and down thrusts, making him tangle his hands in her hair and pull her back down to his parted lips. Their noses and foreheads bump gently as they move, eyes riveted to one another, unwilling to look away, certain that this is where they would’ve ended up anyways.

 

Katniss watches the soft ticks in his lips and the fluttering of his lashes, the minute signs of his fight to hold back. To prolong their connection. 

 

“Stop, stop, stop,” he pleads suddenly. Grabbing her hips and holding her still as he explains. “Don’t wanna finish just yet.”

 

Giddy with his words, she lays down flush on his heaving chest, curling her arm around his head so she can toy with his hair as she kisses him. His cock twitches inside her while their lips and tongues twist and curl in an ancient dance, but he gradually calms a little. She can feel it as his heartbeat evens out against hers. Katniss still rolls her hips in infinitesimal strokes, not wanting to lose her own ardor while they delay gratification.

 

“Okay,” he murmurs finally. “I think I’m out of danger of humiliating myself now.”

 

“Peeta,” she whispers as she resumes her full movements over him. “You wouldn’t be humiliating yourself. We have as long as we want.”

 

His breath catches and he grips her ass, a look of determination on his face as he drives her hips over him.

 

“Still. You first,” he says as her mouth drops open at the fire tempting her towards climax. It blooms deep in her gut and spreads outwards to the edges of her being. Her nails dig into his chest as her abs palpitate and everything is ablaze around her until his name and a hundred garbled words fly from her mouth. For just a second, she thinks she touches paradise. 

 

When she’s cognizant of anything other than the streamers of bliss running rampant in her veins, she screams and flies back towards the sky, unthinking, lifts her hips up into his as he groans promises, words of love and passion into her neck, plunges into her as his arm caught beneath her holds them both together. He must have flipped them over at some point, but she doesn’t remember that and doesn’t really care. Her legs embrace his hips, squeeze tight as she claws his back and gives up any form of control. Her body soars, flung up high again and again until Peeta lets loose one long guttural moan, grinding his pelvis down into hers, filling her to the brim.

 

As they float back down to their pillows, they continue to move. Short sharp thrusts that draw out the ripples of contentment. He lays heavy on top of her, and as she runs her fingers through his sweat soaked locks, a laugh bubbles up in her chest and breaks free into the humid air surrounding them.

 

“Something funny?” he asks between deep breaths.

 

“Maybe,” she says and smiles up at him as he lifts himself off her to look down at her. “You were worried about hurting me last night because you left marks. And I understand why now, it’s just...”

 

“Katniss, I’m--”

 

“Don’t you dare apologize again, Peeta,” she interrupts. “Because I’m not sorry about any of it. Besides,” she traces the pads of her fingers along the raised red marks curling over his shoulders and ribs, speckling his chest. “I left marks on you tonight. Does that upset you?”

 

His gaze burns into hers and she smiles, knowing she’s won.

 

“Not these marks,” he murmurs against her lips, kissing her first with the words and then his entire body. Before they can get involved, though, the timer on the oven sounds, and Peeta groans.

 

“It’s always something,” he says in annoyance.

 

“Come on,” she tells him with a playful swat on his ass. “I’m starving.”

 

They eat in their underwear, laughing and making quiet plans, just in case none of the jobs he’s pursuing in town work out. She reminds him that they have a date to pick out furniture for the living room, something that makes him smile and his ears turn pink. When they eventually climb into bed, they shift for a few seconds before finally settling into the grooves where they usually sleep, his arms around her.

 

In the middle of the night, she wakes to Peeta’s lips on her ear, his murmured words shooting straight to her groin as he whispers all the dirty things he wants to do to her. She allows it, and as she’s clenching her thighs around his head with euphoria dashing through her limbs, her phone buzzes with a text message. When she finally releases him, Peeta flings the covers off his head and glares at the phone.

 

“Who the hell keeps texting you at midnight?” he asks, and she detects a note of doubt in his question.

 

“Last night, it was Gale. Drunk texting,” she manages to explain, fully intending to ignore him again tonight. Peeta however, reaches for her phone, pauses with his hand hovering over it.

 

“May I?” he asks, and she nods. She has nothing to hide from him. At least she thought she didn’t, but his face scrunches, the light from the screen casting harsh angles over his features. “Who is Darius and what sort of midnight cravings does he want you to help him sate?”

 

She flies upright, her cheeks on fire, and grabs the phone from Peeta’s grasp.

 

“Food!” she explains. “He’s talking about food. Like a burger or pizza or something. One night he wanted to meet up to eat sushi. It was disgusting. But he’s just a friend and always makes food sound sexual.”

 

To her surprise, Peeta laughs.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve replaced me so fast,” Peeta says, but crawls up the bed to nuzzle her ear.

 

“You’re not mad?” she asks.

 

“Darius is your new midnight snack friend, right?” he asks, and she nods. “Then no, I’m not mad. Just wish you’d told me before I got that punch to the gut.”

 

She scowls down at her phone as another text pops up.

 

_ DARIUS: Thai place a few blocks from you? _

 

“You feel like getting some Thai food?” she asks Peeta. He watches her carefully.

 

“You’re sure,” he says softly. “I won’t be intruding?”

 

“I’ll tell him we’ll meet him in twenty,” she says and types out a response. Setting aside her phone, she smirks at Peeta. “Before we go…”

 

Pulling the sheet back over them, she pushes him down into the pillows and drags his sleep shorts off his legs. Thirty minutes later they’re disheveled and late to meet up with Darius, but luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind the wait, smiling widely when she stumbles into the 24 hour restaurant with Peeta on her arm and an unmistakable glow on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, just a short little smutty epilogue and this one is done! Thank you so much for reading. As always, your comments are welcome and appreciated. -KDNFB


	7. Match

**_One year later…_ **

 

As the tumblers of the lock click and Peeta slowly pushes the door to their apartment open, Katniss bounces impatiently on the balls of her feet, wondering why she stupidly chose to wear these monstrous heels today. When he turns to her with a sweet smile, she warms and releases the quiet sigh she’s been withholding all afternoon and most of the evening. Maybe even longer than that.

 

Peeta’s hand rests gently on the small of her back as she hobbles into the darkness of their home. They forgot to leave a light on. While her eyes adjust to the shadows, she clutches the plastic container of leftovers Hazelle had shoved into Katniss’ hands as they departed the reception, insisting that there was so much food, even her massive brood wouldn’t be able work their way through it before it all went bad.

 

The familiar shadowed shapes of their home and Peeta’s touch, warming her through the layers of her dress, are comforting. Ever since the invitation to Gale’s wedding had arrived three weeks ago, Katniss has sat on the edge between anxiety and a semi-lucid state, constantly worrying about everything.

 

Why Gale had even bothered inviting them after over a year of silence and her last fight with him. What if Gale caused a scene. What if  _ she _ caused a scene. How would Peeta react to the whole thing. How would  _ she  _ handle it…

 

The soft click of the deadbolt draws her out her litany of useless worries. It doesn’t matter anymore. Gale had acted as though there were no vile words still hanging between them until halfway through the reception when he'd asked her to dance and then offered her a half-assed, sheepish apology. But she knew that's probably the best she could expect from him. So she took it and even managed to return an apology of her own. After that, things still felt awkward, if no longer hostile. They were neither of them ever very good at apologizing to each other. 

 

All she can feel now is relief. Gale is married to someone that is not her, and no one caused a scene at the wedding. Unless you count Finnick and Thresh sneaking nineteen year old Rory several shots of whiskey and then encouraging him to give an impromptu toast. Poor kid was drunk off his ass by the end of the night and probably won’t remember much of it.

 

She smiles and shakes her head at the memory, squinting as Peeta flips on the lights.

 

“I thought that went well,” he says, the twitch of his lips hinting that he might be thinking about the same events as her. Katniss chuckles and toes off her heels, padding carefully to the kitchen in her stockinged feet to place the leftovers in the fridge. 

 

“I’ll go check on Buttercup,” he tells her.

 

Buttercup. Prim’s cat who lives with them for now because she adopted the mangy beast before she checked on her dorm hall’s pet policy. Prim’s cat who apparently suffers from separation anxiety and hides under the bed and claws the stuffing out of a pillow or two whenever they both leave the apartment, only to be coaxed out by Peeta’s gentle urgings and the occasional bit of bacon.

 

As she shuts the fridge, Katniss glances at each of the pictures in magnetic frames on its surface and smiles at the memories they conjure. Mostly sweet but a few with a bitter twist.

 

The image of her and Peeta, his arms wrapped around her and his face buried in her neck, just the corner of his smile visible as she blushes and laughs, boisterous in response to words he’d whispered to her right before Madge had snapped the picture. That one was taken on campus, shortly after she’d showed up at the house to visit him, one week after his spring break had ended.

 

_ “Madge is insufferable now. Claiming she knew we were meant for one another all along. Think we could get her to shut up if we told her about the pool table?” he’d painted the words over her neck with his lips. _

 

_ “You tell her,” Katniss had said when she’d finally gotten her laughter under control. Then she’d kissed the mock terrified expression off his face and they’d kept the secret to themselves. _

 

But that weekend hadn’t been all happy photographs and laughter. She’d taken the first opportunity to talk to Gale. Only he hadn’t wanted to hear the things she’d had to say to him and it wasn’t long before they’d begun hurling obscenities at one another. Drawn by the shouting, their friends had intervened. Johanna and Finnick restraining Gale as he redirected his anger at the person pulling Katniss back from the fight...Peeta.

 

When her fury had finally cooled a little, she could see that Gale’s angry words hurt Peeta almost as much as they hurt her. After all, her two boys had been friends since Peeta had moved in. Still, she couldn’t stop the rapid swings between fury and sorrow, and spent most of that night in Peeta’s arms, alternately crying and raging into his shirt as he rubbed his hands over her back and listened. His steadiness eventually calmed her through the hiccoughs that arrived after her tantrum and until she fell asleep beside him in his bed.

 

Regretting the loss of Gale’s friendship more than she was willing to admit, even if Peeta’s suggestion to give him time and space worked out and made the loss temporary, Katniss couldn’t bring herself to return to that campus until a month later, for Peeta’s and everyone else’s graduation. Even then, Gale had kept his distance and his silence. At least until a few weeks ago with the invite to his wedding to a girl Katniss didn't know.

 

Her eyes swing to the next picture, capturing an instant of Peeta losing his balance from Thresh smacking him on the back and leaning heavily on Katniss as she looks at them both like they’re idiots. Madge and Johanna on the other side of her, cheeks pressed together and wide smiles on their faces as they actually managed to pose for the picture. Everyone in their black satin graduation robes except Katniss.

 

She’d chosen a green dress with a skirt that swirled around her legs and dipped low in the back. Rue had gone shopping with her for that dress, told Katniss she looked like springtime in it. That was how Katniss knew it’d be perfect.

 

All day, Peeta’s hand kept gravitating to her exposed back and shoulders. His breath would heave for a second or two as his shining eyes roamed over her. When they went out to dinner with his family, his hand wandered up under the skirt to rest on her thigh and stayed there, fingers sketching lazy patterns on the sensitive skin. A warm promise of the night ahead, sending shivers chased by frissons of desire through her body to the point that his mother had scolded him for not giving his clearly frigid girlfriend his suit jacket to keep warm.

 

As Peeta had peeled off his jacket, Katniss had squeezed his thigh, as high as she dared in the presence of his parents and tried to tell him with her eyes that it was okay. They had each other, after all. They could deal with his mother and her veiled insults as long as they did it together.

 

He must have gotten the message because he’d kissed her right below her ear as he draped his suit jacket around her shoulders, enveloping her in his heat and his scent. Making her squirm even more and wish for the dinner to just end already.

 

Barely ten minutes after his family had departed, Peeta's suit was strewn across his room and Katniss was perched on the edge of his bed, nestled in the jumbled heap of clothes he still had to pack. Her skirt shoved up around her waist, bodice tugged down, and her panties hanging around one ankle. Peeta pouring filthy words into her ear in his honeyed voice, punctuated with his ragged groans. Words about how hard he’d been all day. How insane she’d driven him in her flowing, springtime green dress. How his fingers had itched for just a sampling of her skin. The tiny touches he’d indulged in throughout the day not nearly enough to satisfy. 

 

She flushes anew at the recollection of the feel of him snapping his hips into her. The decadent feel of satin and chiffon sliding between them as night and starlight danced over her eyes and through her body. 

 

_ All. Damn. Day.  _ He’d moaned as he followed her off the precipice.

 

In the cool of their kitchen, she shivers and moves her focus to another picture. Eyes skimming over family and friends and a few more of just her or Peeta before coming to rest on one mostly out of focus picture that is actually her favorite. This one taken after he’d moved in with her. After a rough day at his new job, she’d shoved him on the couch and they lay there, comforting one another in whispered words, feather touches, and chaste kisses. When his phone had rung, a call from his mother, he’d stared at the screen a few seconds before hitting  _ Ignore _ and switching on the camera. Then he’d tickled her. 

 

Her face screwed up in laughter and his illuminated with joy, the colors and the way he looks at her the only clear thing in the otherwise blurry image. 

 

“Hey, Buttercup’s up on the bookshelf this time. Figured I’d let him lord over his domain a little longer, ” Peeta says as he comes to stand behind her, winding his arms around her waist and settling his chin on her shoulder. “Whatcha staring at?”

 

“Our memories,” she tells him, turning her head enough to kiss his cheek. “I’m thinking we should add to them.”

 

“Did you have something in mind?” he asks, dipping his mouth to suck lightly at the junction of her neck and shoulders. Her eyelids flutter at the sensations, her lips parting breathlessly as his hands wander down over her hips.

 

“We could,” she stops talking as his teeth tug on her ear.

 

“We could what?” he asks.

 

“We could get married,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut against the fallout of her words. The callous way she basically just proposed to the man she loves with every fiber of her being.

 

“This isn’t about Gale getting married, is it?” he asks, spinning her to face him.

 

“No,” she tells him, although she can see how he might think that. Her timing and choice of words, as usual, is awful. Peeta quirks an eyebrow at her and shoves his hands in his pockets, waiting for further explanation.

 

“I just thought you wanted to, and--” Peeta laughs, cutting off her words.

 

“You are terrible at proposing,” he says and she scowls up at him.

 

“And I suppose you think you could do better?” she crosses her arms and Peeta’s eyes dip to her chest.

 

Inwardly, she smirks, but she keeps the angry expression on her face, not willing to let him know that once again, she selected her dress specifically to tease him. Sure, she feels sexy and powerful in the dark blue sheath that hugs her few curves and dips low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage with some help from a black lace push-up bra. And that feeling of power and confidence was certainly something she needed to endure her ex-boyfriend slash one-time best friend’s wedding. But really, it was the way Peeta couldn’t seem to keep his hands or eyes off her the whole day that boosted her confidence from strong to  _ Fuck yeah!  _ Just what she needed to survive any potential drama.

 

When he finally looks back up at her face, he grins devilishly and leans over her.

 

“I  _ know  _ I could do better,” he whispers, the silk of his voice and hot breath curling over the shell of her ear and pulling a soft whimper from her throat. He’s not even touching her and already she feels liquid want puddling in her panties. The lacy thong she’s wearing won’t stand a chance if he keeps this up much longer.

 

“Don’t you want to marry me?” she challenges, and Peeta chuckles, stepping away from her, leaving her chilled and leaning towards his retreating form.

 

“Tell you what,” he says, pausing by the pool table. “Since I know you can do better, too, let’s play a game. In say four months, the loser of tonight’s game has to propose to the winner. Sincerely. And we’ll see what happens then.”

 

“You’re being awfully lose with our hypothetical future marriage, staking it on a game,” she says, but the idea intrigues her.

 

“I’ll admit it’s a little more risky than losing a few articles of clothes,” he says and Katniss smiles at the cherished memory. “But it’s no more cavalier than that pathetic excuse for a proposal you just made.”

 

“Okay,” she says as casually as possible. “Start thinking of your proposal speech. And if it involves a jumbotron, I will kick you in the balls.”

 

“We’ll see,” he says with a wink.

 

Katniss sets up the game as he removes his suit jacket, draping it over the back of their couch before he rolls up his sleeves.

 

“You first,” she says with a bow and a grin when he once again blatantly checks her out. He scrubs the back of his neck and breaks with a swift stroke of the cue, astonishing her as both the twelve and the thirteen fall into pockets. “Lucky hit.”

 

He grins at her and moves around the table. Sinking the nine and the ten before he misses his shot on the eleven. Barely. Katniss releases a breath she’d been holding in as Peeta steps back from the table, and she comes to the rapid realization that she might actually lose this time.

 

“Have you been playing without me?” she accuses as she lines up her shot to sink the one ball, carefully assessing her angles before she strikes and scores.

 

“Maybe I have,” he says with an innocent gleam in his eyes and mischief flirting with his lips. “Or maybe I just needed the right motivation.”

 

Katniss snorts but she gets the two and the three on the same stroke. Then she scratches on the four when Peeta braces his hands on the table and leans over her target pocket, the glow of the lights on his curls burnishing them golden and making her think of nothing but the feel of them on her thighs. 

 

As they continue -- the game one of quiet cracks and thumps, murmured flirtations, whispered touches -- and the balls slowly disappear from the table surface, Katniss watches him and decides that even if she loses, the worst part of losing will be coming up with words romantic enough to let Peeta know how sincere she is when she proposes to him.

 

The sudden thought stops her cold and she misses her shot on the eight ball to win the match. As she walks the length of the table to go grab something to drink, because she’s suddenly parched and also now there’s just the cue, the eight, and the fifteen left on the bright green surface. Katniss pauses in front of him, grasping his tie and pulling him down so she can kiss him soundly. But the kiss affects her as much as it does him as she finds herself in an all too familiar position with Peeta plastered to her front and the table digging into her back as his hands roam leisurely up and down her sides, his tongue lingering in her mouth with each kiss she wants to turn frenzied but that he keeps sensual instead. When he stops kissing her, they’re both panting and she can feel his arousal, hard against her hip, but Peeta steps back and lets her go.

 

“Stop trying to sabotage me,” he growls playfully.

 

“And I suppose that ass grab earlier was completely innocent,” she says as he bends over the table to line up with the fifteen. He scores, and moves to examine the eight ball before he looks up at her and grins. He misses his shot, though, and hangs his head dejectedly for a moment.

 

“I’m just impressed you made it this far,” she taunts, drink forgotten. Peeta stands up straight and smiles broadly at her.

 

Warmth settles low in her belly, reminding her that she’s wanted him most of the day. Not a burning longing, but a constant smoldering that kept her keyed up and looking for distractions. Enough to leave her a little disappointed that he hadn’t found a quiet place for a quickie at the wedding. And maybe a part of her had thought that if he’d make her come, she could let go of the anxiety over the wedding itself once and for all. She wore the damn Fuck Me Heels and everything, but to no avail. Peeta had been the perfect gentleman instead. All. Damn. Day.

 

It was frustrating as hell and too damn appealing for her peace of mind.

 

Bending over the table, Katniss takes aim, her entire body jolting when his palm singes her through her dress, dragging up the back of her thigh, over the swell of her ass as he plants one hand next to her and leans over her, caging her in and creating a pocket of heat around them. His lips trail fire over the wide swath of her back left exposed by her dress, up to her shoulders where he releases a shuddering sigh that makes her elbows slacken and her neck arch so he can taste it too. 

 

“The way I see it,” he whispers to her neck. “I win either way tonight. Either you allow me to propose to you, to say the things I keep locked away for fear of scaring you. Or I get to hear in excruciating detail why you’d want to marry me.”

 

“Peeta,” she pleads as he nips the delicate skin of her neck and Katniss allows his hand to sear its way up her ribs to her breast. She gasps and bucks as his palm comes into contact with the bare skin of her chest then dips below the neckline of her dress, cupping her breast then pulling it free of fabric restraints.

 

“What kind of things?” she moans and her hips gyrate slowly against his, echoing the plucking of his thumb over her hardened nipple.

 

“You’re not getting them out of me that easily. Are you squirming because you’re so wet for me it’s about to drip down your thighs?” he murmurs into her ear before tracing the shell with the tip of his tongue. “Or is it because you’re angry and thinking that I didn’t notice or ignored every hint you dropped throughout the day that you wanted to disappear and let me fuck you hard enough to make your pussy ache?”

 

“Stop trying to sabotage me,” she groans, a smile curling over her mouth as his hand leaves her breast and travels back down her body.

 

“Well guess what I’m gonna do right now,” he whispers, his weight pressing down on her as both his hands push her dress up over her hips and she bites her lip, waiting for his touch to find its way to where she needs it most, her clit pulsing in anticipation.

 

“Fuck me,” he murmurs and she looks over her shoulder, suddenly uncertain. Only, Peeta is staring at her body, blue eyes impossibly dark. She watches as his tongue swipes over his pink lips, leaving them glistening in the light and he swallows heavily. “When did you get this?”

 

Katniss squirms, uncomfortable with his perusal now that she knows the reason. The lingerie she purchased last week and stuffed in the back of the dresser, debated wearing until she’d gone to put on her skin tight dress this morning and realized that the thong and garter belt combo was really her only choice if she didn’t want panty and pantyhose lines visible beneath her dress.

 

“Um a week ago,” she says. “I know it’s not really my style.”

 

“It’s incredibly sexy,” he says, pulling her upright and turning her to face him. Their eyes lock and he smiles at her, his hands skimming over her arms, around her back. He buries his face in her neck and she grips his shirt as Peeta drags the zipper down her back. Lower. Slower. His lips a fire brand on her skin. She’s about to take the dress off herself when his hands finally cup her shoulders, his thumbs hooking under the the fabric and tugging the whole thing down, exposing her shoulders, her breasts adorned in matching black lace, her arms and belly, and eventually her hips before the garment falls the rest of the way to the floor.

 

Peeta steps back to drink in the sight of her, his perusal warming her in the chill of the apartment. She self-consciously tugs the cup of her bra back over the breast he’d fondled earlier, hissing a little at the scrape of the lace over the sensitive bud of dark flesh _. _

 

“Shouldn’t you be used to seeing this by now?” she teases, biting her lip and as always, overwhelmed by the way he looks at her. Whether her clothes are on or not.

 

“Never,” he murmurs, his hands bracketing her waist as he lifts her up to sit her on the pool table, kicking her dress into the shadows beneath. 

 

Her hands automatically settle themselves on his shoulders for stability, her legs falling open to let him move closer. The elastic bands of her garter belt stretch taut as they come back together, heated lips to eager tongues, hands exploring familiar terrain. He tugs his tie loose while she flicks open his shirt buttons. They work together to push the crisp white fabric off his shoulders.

 

She manages to loosen his belt and unzip his pants before his fingers pull her thong to the side and curl through her. As many times as he’s done this, she still reacts with a deep moan, leaning back on the table with hands braced on the felt as he holds her hip steady with one hand and destroys her ability to form a lucid thought with the other. Legs squeezing his hips and stuttered breaths encourage him. She holds perfectly still, muscles aching with the effort of not falling over and striving with his touch. 

 

She cries out his name as she gets close enough to feel the first tremors and his fingers leave her. She exclaims again as he slides inside her, a delicious burn from the inside out as her arms buckle and she follows the motions of her body. Lays back, throwing both arms over her head. Singing out her quiet moans to the beat of his steady thrusts.

 

Peeta’s hands grip her thighs right where they meet her hips, his own quiet grunts joining the melody, growing louder the closer he gets.

 

“Fuck, come for me, Katniss,” he begs breathlessly, pulling out and leaving her bereft for a moment before his tongue and fingers move over her in harmony and she scatters to the wind with his name on her lips and her hands flying to grip his hair and hold him as deep in her as she can.

 

Before she’s done coming, he stands abruptly, her hands caught in his hair pulling her upright as he slams back into her and she shatters once more, wailing and half laughing in release and astonishment as she thrashes and the only thing keeping them from falling to the floor with the force of her movements is his steady stance and hold on her.

 

“Oh, Peeta!” she screams, transported to a realm where the only thing that matters is the feel of them pulsing and clenching in unison, his fingers digging into her hip and back as he holds her to him, hovering off the table now, and the sound and feel of Peeta groaning her name directly into her ear.

 

He places her back on the table, leaning heavily into her as they both gasp for air and coherent thought. She manages first, cupping his jaw in her hand and kissing him with everything. Lips, teeth, tongue, soul.

 

“Fuck,” he mutters when she releases his mouth with a soft smack.

 

“Fuck,” she laughs back, throwing her arms around him and holding him close, ignoring the feverish temperature of their skin. Katniss closes her eyes, and even though she was laughing a second ago, something else sweeps through her in that moment. An unquenchable need that sparks deep in her chest and engulfs her entire being, threatens to spill over her skin and escape any corporeal bonds. She bites her lip, but the words take flight anyways. Tremulous and tender.

 

He returns them without a moment’s hesitation. Steady and unflinching. A caress over her ear and her soul. Her cheeks hurt with her wide smile, and it doesn’t leave her face until much later, when her features finally relax into slumber, cocooned in Peeta’s arms. Or maybe it stays even then, she can’t be sure.

 

But when she wakes in the morning and shuffles out to the kitchen, greeted by his sleepy smile and the smell of fresh pancakes and raspberry compote, she saunters over to the pool table, picking up her cue stick and beaming at him before she leans back over, takes careful aim at what she wants, already certain what her answer will be in four months. She slides the cue back and forth, bites her lip, takes a deep breath.

 

And strikes the cue ball, straight as an arrow towards the eight and the pocket beyond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally managed to finish one! Even though this is one of my simple stories in terms of plot, characterization, and well just about everything, it was a whole lot of fun to write! Plus, the sense of accomplishment at actually finishing is amazing. Now to focus on the other WIPs that have been waiting over a year for an update! Tell me what you think of the ending, if you think it's too cliche or not enough of an ending, or whatever you thought when you finished reading. I'd love to hear from you! <3 Tracy


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